Scar Tissue
by Cliscia
Summary: Ryou is not the kind, innocent boy that he often appears to be, and Mariku is forced to learn this the hard way. How long, through physical and mental torture, does it take the mind to break? Deathshipping. Slight guro
1. Part o1

**The world is in need of some good Mariku guro, so I took it upon myself to write it. The fic is one big fic, but cut into sections. I learned from my Bronzeshipping oneshot that people don't like to read, ironically enough, so I had to make this 'chapter' shorter than the whole fic itself. This fic is fucked up to the max, yo. It deals with very nasty things that most people will not like. But if you're a sick degenerate like me, go ahead and enjoy it without any repercussions.**

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_Plop. Plink. Pttp._ There was water falling somewhere. Little drops that slapped against the floor, echoing around the room. In a rhythm, they would fall, one after another, and Mariku lost count of how many had joined the others in a little puddle on the floor. And it was dark. That, above all else, he knew. It was something so fundamental, so _familiar_, that he could take consolation in it. Because truly, it was the only thing he DID know now.

Cold, it was cold, and Mariku did not know where he was. All he knew was the feeling of concrete against his back, and the smell of something musty and old. Oh, and the chains. He couldn't forget the chains that encircled his middle, keeping him firmly bound, his arms held to his sides. Connected to a loop in the wall, he could lean forward only about a foot or so before the chain links clicked together and became taut. Whoever had done this to him had been smart to take away the rod. It would seem that it would be common sense, but so far, all of his other opponents had not even thought of taking away his source of power. Pitiful. They were so stupid. But without it's power and his control, he was as weak as…Malik.

Shifting, Mariku growled, the chain catching on a piece of his skin and pinching it, making his back arch in attempt to get away. Letting the binds around him move lower, he leaned back, resting against that cold, hard concrete wall. He could feel the coolness through his hair, and it made the back of his head cold, which felt good against his skin. Unwillingly, he was a little…nervous. His kidnapper had obviously moved him from the blimp, and to have done that, well…he didn't know how they had. There was a whirring noise ever present from the generator room on the blimp that was gone now, replaced only with a deathly silence, and the occasional drip of water. That, and the fact that whoever had taken him captive had caught him in the first place. Mariku wasn't stupid, nor was he imprudent. He would have not let himself be taken hostage so easily. Whoever had done it, must have drugged him. It was the only reasonable explanation.

Having tried to wriggle his way out of the chains earlier, it had proved futile. Mariku, instead, opted to struggle more, trying to move his arms so that he could reach the lock and maybe fiddle with it a little. Unfortunately, the only thing he had gained was overexertion, and was now currently in a worse state than he had felt before. Head hot from what he thought must have been the after affect of the drug, Mariku sighed, twisting a little so that he could lean his head against the wall. The feeling of the cool surface against his contrasting skin felt wonderful, and he savored it. Savored the feeling of _feeling_. Even in the situation he was in, he was still grateful for being alive, being able to touch the world around him. And then he heard a door creak, and click shut, a brief flash of light falling onto the floor.

Footsteps. A hollow sound as they grew louder and closer. Stairs. His kidnapper must have walked down stairs. And once his(it was a male, right?) feet clanked loudly onto something different, Mariku knew that they had reached the bottom.

It was an odd feeling, waiting for the inevitable introduction of his captor, and at the same time, not wanting it to happen at all. Though, Mariku would rather face the unknown than sit and wait for his fate to come to him. He'd had enough of sitting back, waiting and watching. Though, he barely had time to open his mouth and sling insults and a demand for explanation before his kidnapper beat him to it.

"Are you comfortable, Mariku?"

The voice was mocking, and he could hear the sarcasm in it, imagining a smirk to accompany it's tone. But it was…familiar. So achingly familiar that Mariku forgot once again to yell.

"No." His voice was set with malice, a perfect match for his kidnapper's tone. HE WAS FUCKING MARIKU ISHTAR! Who _dared_ to think that they could touch him!? He would kill them, stab them with the rod, tear it through their skin and watch the blood drip to the floor. Mariku shuddered at the welcome idea..

"Oh, too bad. I brought you all the way here, too, the least you could do is humor me." More footsteps, the sound drowning out the dripping water. Mariku wished then that he could see, so that he could at least tell how close or far away they were.

"Maybe I would do so if you let me go. I don't know what you want, but I swear to god that I'll kill you once I get these off!" Trying once again to rid himself of the weight around his form, he grunted, getting no more far along than before.

"Do you even think about what you're going to say before you say it? …" They paused, seeming to find something funny. "If you really want to be let go, do you think that threatening me would be the best way to go about it?"

"…" Mariku opened his mouth, but found nothing to say, feeling angry that he had been dismissed so easily. Mariku hated being corrected.

"But it's okay, you'll learn eventually. Take your time, though, with that. It'll be much more fun to watch you struggle." And then he knew that voice, that familiar lift when he imagined a smirk, their eyes narrowed.

"Bakura!" Subconsciously, he relaxed. Bakura was no threat to him. Though…how had he managed to get his body back?

"You're close."

And then the lights flooded on. Mariku squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head against the sudden blinding invasion. After a while, he opened his eyes, squinting. Everything was blurry at first, and nothing had a refined, definite shape, but his eyes gradually became used to the artificial light. The first thing he noticed was how very _white_ everything was. The walls and floor were, like he had thought, made out of concrete, and were cracking in some places, but were all painted a stark white color. There were pipes at one wall, a puddle forming near the base where a thick one led to the ground, explaining the dripping noise he had heard, and everything was dirty, grungy, and disgusting. Cabinets lined the walls, their contents unknown, and there was a sink in the corner where the water could be let down to an open drain in the floor. A table set in the middle of the room was illuminated by a hanging light, it's bulb creating the blinding artificial light that engulfed everything around it. From what Mariku could see, there were straps placed all too conveniently on the table to be a coincidence, and he was left with an odd feeling in his stomach. Eerie was the only way to describe it, something out of an old horror movie, a sick and twisted operating room; a sight he would have loved, if he was the one in control. And of course, the main attraction bathed in the disturbing light was his captor, a light smile gracing his lips as he leaned against the table. Ryou Bakura.

"Where's Bakura?" Ryou's smile dropped when he growled at him, looking angry at how he brushed him aside. Hah. Could Ryou even _be_ angry?

"Bakura's not here right now," Ryou said, straightening up a little, "in fact, you won't be seeing much of Bakura at all."

Mariku narrowed his eyes suspiciously, not knowing what was going on. Why was Ryou here? Had Bakura left him to deal with him? Not likely, the spirit usually seemed to use him only for his body and never gave him much control, so then…what? Had _Ryou_ been the one to bring him here?

"What are you playing at?" It was a little unnerving when Ryou smiled afterwards, showing his teeth as he moved himself off the table to stand on his own.

"Mariku, what are you accusing me of? I just want to have a little fun."

He frowned when Ryou walked slowly around the room, his eyes never moving off of his form as he continued to smile softly.

"You know," he paused in front of him and he looked up, not liking how he was at his feet, "you're quite harmless like this, without the rod. In fact," another smile, "I believe I could do quite anything to you right now. Look at you, the great bringer of terror and darkness!, all tied up and unable to defend yourself. A little pitiful for you, don't you think?" The way that he smiled was very, very perturbing. Ryou was a quiet, soft-spoken boy, as far as he had known. But really, he hadn't seen much of him, only Bakura. But…he had killed Bakura, hadn't he? He had won the shadow game. Bakura had died! That was the rule! Oh, but yes. Ryou was his host, and he could not die.

"Shut up!" Mariku growled, narrowing his eyes further. "I'll kill you, I'll kill you! I'll rip your throat out, let me go! How _dare_ you do this to me!? When I get the rod I swear that I'll kill you!" He struggled in his binds, and only grew angrier when he saw the look of amusement on Ryou's face.

Ryou tutted at him wagging a finger in mockery. "You're so crude, Mariku. How do you think you'll get the rod back? Will you duel me for it?" Another amused look. "Cards aren't going to save you, Mariku, and they won't set you free, either."

What the hell was going on? Ryou hadn't answered any of his questions, only continued to mock him with his young face and innocent eyes, that same small smile always plastered onto his face. It was starting to make him a little nervous, how he continued to stare at him, and Mariku shifted. Mariku was afraid of the fact that he could be nervous. Fear… He feared fear. Mariku was not the one who felt it - he was the one who caused it! And if he wasn't…

"What do you want." He said it bluntly.

"Well," Ryou looked up, thoughtfully, "control, I suppose." He seemed to notice his lack of understanding, and Ryou went on. "Its what you want, isn't it? You're driven for the desire to have something to call your own, a body, a name, an entire world? We're not so different. But I want something else. I don't want an entire world for my own. Actually, I think I'll just settle for one person." Mariku was confused when Ryou set a finger on his chest, dragging it slowly up to his chin, tilting his head upward when he stopped in front of him. "I guess you can say I'm…_selfish._"

Growling, Mariku shook his head away, not liking how Ryou touched him, manipulating his movements.

"I don't even know what you're talking about." Mariku scoffed, turning his head to the side.

"Come on, I know you're not stupid. Put two and two together."

Mariku looked back at him a little warily, trying to make sense of what he had said. The facts were clear. He was tied up, away from the blimp, and his rod was gone. Thinking over what the white haired boy had told him, Mariku felt himself untense, becoming much more at ease with the situation. Really. The thought made Mariku laugh.

"You can't keep me here. You're too weak." He looked up smugly. "Now come on and untie me, your game is over."

"Mariku, this isn't a game." Ryou's expression was odd. He seemed mad, but his facial features stayed calm as he kneeled down in front of him. "Do you not believe me? You think I'm weak? Oh, yeah, I forgot. I'm just quiet little Ryou, quiet little Ryou who wouldn't ever even THINK of harming anybody. Just sweet, naïve, little Ryou who is easily manipulated by everyone around him. Nobody would ever think that quiet, innocent Ryou would _ever_ be…sick." He laughed then, and Mariku was once again confused. What was he going on about? "That's what you think, right? That I'm just quiet and reserved. I wonder if you'll still think that later on…I look forward to it. But let me tell you something." Ryou leaned in close to him, and Mariku moved back, a little nervous by their close proximity and the odd look in the shorter's eyes, but his head only met the wall, unable to move back farther. "I'm good at lying. I'm good at pretending. And I'm good at acting out the persona I need to be to get what I want. You think that what Bakura does to me goes against my will? I'm the one who tells him what to do. I'm the one who lets these things happen. _I_ am the driving force behind everything he does. And _I_ will be the one who wins in the end, the one who will conquer you, the powerful and beautiful. Don't underestimate me, Mariku, I'm much more…capable than you may think." Ryou gave his little smile again, the light from the fluorescent bulb casting dark shadows across his face, making it come off much scarier than he had probably meant it to be. Probably.

"You can't beat me." Mariku didn't look away, not wanting to back down. "You don't have it in you."

Ryou laughed again and drew away, but did not move from his spot in front of him. "We'll see, Mariku. …Do you know what I'm going to do with you?"

Mariku frowned, partly from how he had been laughed at, and partly from the fact that he didn't seem to have much control, that Ryou probably _could_ do anything he would like to him. The thought worried him.

"No."

"Would you like to guess?" Ryou smiled, crossing his legs and rested his hands in his lap, leaning forward a little again.

"No." Really, he didn't want to. The way that Ryou was acting definantly wasn't normal.

"Come on, guess. It'll be fun." He frowned, sweeping a bit of his white hair from his face and behind his ear.

"I don't want to. Let me go."

"That won't be happening any time soon, Mariku. Give it up. But first, I should probably go get-… I'll be right back." Ryou stood, and Mariku watched as he left his field of view, walking to a part of the room that he could not see, even when he twisted his head to look for him. He heard him move around, something clanking ever so often, a little hollow sounding, a bottle, maybe?, before the sound stopped, and he seemed to find what he was looking for. Hearing his steps before he could see him, Ryou returned, holding something that looked like a black strap connected to some sort of machine, with two rectangular flaps one end, and a red colored strip at the other. Mariku eyed it warily.

"What are you doing?" His voice came out a little more worried than he had meant to sound, but he ignored it, watching as Ryou knelt back down in front of him.

"Making sure that everything will go according to plan." Ryou moved his attention to what he was holding, fussing around with the straps and a white sort of sleeve. His eyes flicked up to Mariku's own, and he paused. "I'm going to unchain you. Sit still." Mariku laughed to himself. To think that he thought Ryou had been clever. Pfft. He would run the minute he felt the chain come loose. And then, of course, he would kill him. But what he was not expecting was when Ryou stood up again, and instead of reaching to undo his binds, he left to the counters, picking something all to familiar up.

"One day, you'll be obedient and won't even think of disobeying me, but for now, I have to resort to this."

And Mariku could only watch in muted horror as his rod was pointed towards him, giving him no time to retaliate before his mind locked up, his body completely stiff, as if in Rigimortis. It was only sweet irony that he was in this situation, the source of all of his power and ability to reign terror over humanity, was now being used on him. Unable to move, his physical self was under the complete control of his kidnapper, and even his mind was influenced by it's affect. He could still feel the basic fear and sickness at the thought of what was happening, but other than that, he could only barely comprehend as Ryou walked back towards him. Hearing nothing, he did not even have the ability to feel anymore. Were his nerve endings under the rod's power, as well? So this was what it was like to be a slave to the rod, completely and utterly cut off from the rest of the world, a doll, a puppet, only waiting for a command from it's wielder. It was morbidly funny, actually. He hadn't imagined that the feeling would be so similar to his birth. Unable to do anything than just sit and watch as his body was manipulated, only then, it had been Malik who was the puppeteer, and he didn't even have a physical being, only a mind, a soul created out of hate and anger. Really, he shouldn't be so poetic about things.

He could only numbly recognize Ryou unchain him from the wall as he moved his right arm from his side, limp without his mind telling it what to do. Picking it up, Ryou slipped the white sleeve like thing onto his arm, pushing it up until it reached his shoulder. Satisfied with where he left it, Ryou moved to the black strap. This took more time as he fumbled with it, attaching the straps to the opposite end, creating a loop where his upper arm was trapped, near the shoulder, and on top of the white sleeve. Moving over the machine that was plugged into the wall, he attached some wires to the strap around his arm. He pressed a variety of buttons, none of which meant anything to him, and he could faintly comprehend the machine coming to life. And right when it did, he felt that black strap tighten instantly around his arm, and god, it hurt.

When he finally regained control of his body, he was once again chained, and Ryou held the rod in his hands. Only now his arm was elevated by…something, but he did not want to turn his head to look.

"What did you-"

"It's a tourniquet." Ryou cut him off, shifting ever closer to him. "The LOP will cut off circulation from your arteries and veins to your arm; I don't want things to get too messy. The machine is filled with compressed gas to regulate the pressure I choose to put onto your arm. This machine will save me so much time, Mariku. You should thank it for helping you."

Something was not right. Something so basic, so…concrete, that Mariku had trouble telling what it was. He didn't understand. He didn't understand Ryou's words or actions, and he most definantly didn't understand the way Ryou was running his pale hands through his hair. A little shakey after the effect of the rod, everything that his skin came in contact with felt so much more profound, like how he had felt when he had first taken control of Malik's body. It felt like his birth. Ryou had moved off from the floor in front of him to sit somewhere near his thighs, and Mariku tensed a little at how close they were. The way Ryou was acting seemed odd, dangerous, even, and he didn't want to be anywhere near him, especially after he had used his rod on him.

"…Why?"

"You know," his question went unnoticed, and Ryou only paused, his hand resting on the back of his head, head leaning on his left shoulder, "once you've calmed down and realized it's pointless to fight back against me, you're pretty warm, Mariku. Or I guess, Malik is, since this IS the body you've stolen from him. I wonder if he will try to take control, later?" Of course he wouldn't. He couldn't. Was Ryou really that stupid? "I suppose," Ryou spoke softly, almost to himself, and he moved his head of white hair up to face him, his eyelids lowered partly, "that I could start now…"

Everything about Ryou was soft. His hair, his eyes, his skin, his lips… and his personality too, right? Or at least, he had thought. Because when Ryou moved to kiss him, nothing about it was soft. He crushed their lips together forcefully and suddenly, pulling his head to him as he kissed him with an open mouth. Jerking his hair down, Mariku gasped, getting the desired affect as he shoved his tongue into his mouth. Everything was hot, hot, hot as he felt his breath on his face, Ryou's other hand groping at what part of his body he could find through the chains. Ryou moaned, pressing him back into the wall, moving his tongue in his mouth to his own. He drew away only to kiss him more and with greater force, and Mariku could sometimes feel his teeth instead of his lips. Their bodies were pressed close, and Ryou continued to advance on him until there was no room to move, his legs on either side of his hips. Trapped. He was trapped.

"God." Ryou's voice was heavy between kisses, and his hand tightened in his hair, jerking his head away. "I knew I made a good choice when I brought you here."

Mariku breathed heavily, Ryou having moved his head at an uncomfortable angle, and for the first time in his life, he felt the feeling of fear. He felt control slipping quite literally through his fingers, and he could do nothing about it, couldn't even reach to grab it back, left vulnerable without the rod, stripped of his power; Mariku felt naked. And Ryou was taking advantage of him. Mariku had never…kissed anyone before. Mariku feared fear.

"What's that look for, Mariku, hmm?" Ryou grinned and he shook his head with his hand, making Mariku gasp. He really liked to abuse his hair. "I asked you a question!" And Ryou made an angry sound that he would have previously thought to be out of character as he wrenched his head farther back so that he thought his neck might break.

"I don't know!" Mariku didn't like the way how Ryou was talking to him, the way he was touching him, or the way he seemed so volatile. In fact, Ryou was starting to… scare him.

"Oh, but Mariku, I think you do. What is it that you don't want to tell me?" Ryou smiled, and Mariku could see his teeth.

"Get _off_ of me!" Mariku snarled at Ryou and bucked his hips up to try and get him off, which only made him laugh and tighten his grip on his hair. The situation was really starting to scare him now. He wanted to go back to the blimp.

In a basic sense, the _thought_ of fear scared him more than the actual feeling. The thought of having such a weak emotion…it was like admitting defeat. Mariku didn't want to sit back and let things happen to him. No. Never again. What he wanted, what he needed… he needed to be in charge, in control, to _create_ fear, not take it. Fear was something he could not feel, something he shouldn't be able to feel, something that he didn't _deserve_ to feel. Hadn't he suffered more than someone should? He had felt his share of pain, he had lived through his birth and what he supposed he could call his 'childhood.' The worst was over, he had beat it, he had won. He shouldn't have to feel fear.

"If you keep moving around so violently…" Ryou had managed to subdue his struggling for a while, and moved his other hand back into his hair. "you'll put the LOP in jeopardy of being broken. You REALLY don't want that to happen, Mariku."

"I can do whatever the fuck I want." Snarling back at him, Mariku moved his leg, reasoning that the next time Ryou left, he would kick him on his return. "…Why?" He said it almost suspiciously, again wary at what Ryou wanted and was going to do to him.

"Because I have to regulate the blood flow to your arm. Amputation isn't fun when there's a blood filled area to operate."

"…Wh-what!?" He couldn't have heard that right. What…the hell!?

"I'm going to cut off your arm, Mariku." And Ryou gave his twisted smile.

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**I like to play on the idea that, without having the source of control, his rod, that Mariku is much more vulnerable and human. His power is only so limited, and without it, I think he would feel very lost. At the least. And having the rod gone and being vulnerable, yes, I do think he could feel fear. You know the saying: the only thing to fear is fear itself? I wanted to play on this idea.**

**And as for Ryou… he has a fascination with blood and cult like things. I like the idea of him being a very screwed up person with screwed up fantasies. He's not cute and fluffy, he's just a good actor. Remember when he told Jonouchi when his arm had been cut that he was not scared of the blood and that it was 'cool'? I'm sure that he has much deeper fantasies than that.**

**The review button needs some pimping from your mouse.**


	2. Part o2

**Mariku sometimes refers to himself as Malik. Since they are both the same person, he does this to show how he does understand what Ryou has said. It might get confusing with the names.**

* * *

Mariku felt his jaw go lax, and he stared at Ryou dead in the eyes. He hadn't heard that. There was no way he had heard that right. Mariku had heard every word that he had said.

He couldn't deal with this, with the thought of what Ryou had said was going to happen to him, what he had no choice in letting happen to him. Without the rod, he had nothing. This was so fucked up. Mariku had to get away. He had to. Frantically, he struggled in the chains, listening to them clank against one another as he hyperventilated, repressing the urge to scream. This was crazy, this was absolutely absurd, and there was something so animalistic in his attempts to escape from his tormentor that scared him further. Mariku had to get out of here.

"Do you believe me now, Mariku Ishtar!?" Ryou's voice was choppy as he tried to get him to calm and not accidentally break his arm out from whatever was elevating it, "Do you still believe that I am quiet and kind!?" Ryou was cruel as he laughed, and Mariku wondered faintly if this was still the same person. His laughs stopped short though when he realized that he was jerking his arm away from its binds. "Stop moving."

He must have been crazy to think that he would not become frantic when he told him flat out that he was going to hurt and mutilate him. Ryou had to be insane, completely insane. …Actually, that sounded just about right, right now.

"Get the fuck off of me!" He tried kicking his legs to get Ryou off of him, but it did little good as he slid up his body, out of the way from his kicks. What he needed to do was hurt him, kill him, show him that he was MARIKU, and he would not give in and let somebody try and do ANYTHING to him. He would kill this boy. Yes, Mariku wouldn't fear him, fear was for the weak, and he was no where near weak; Mariku would fight him, destroy him.

Suddenly, his struggles stopped, the only noise his labored breathing and the soft whirring of the machine attached to the cuff around the junction of his arm and his shoulder. Ryou sighed, and moved to sit back down onto his legs, hands moving from his hair to his chest where he felt it rise and fall with his breaths.

"That's good, Mariku, just be calm. I have a lot more to talk to you about. Yes…like that." He smiled softly, though with the same eerie expression he had worn earlier.

"Don't you fucking dare patronize me." Hissing, Mariku glared at him, earning another amused look.

"Oh, I thought you had gotten over cursing at me. But I guess all in time…" Ryou's voice faded off, leaving behind only a twisted grin as he looked down at him, pressed up against his chest.

Mariku's dead eyes stared down at him, and while looking at his white blonde hair, he felt a laugh rise up in his chest. How had he been so stupid? Ryou, being anything other than the weak host of Bakura… Hah. Mariku laughed suddenly out loud at the thought, making Ryou glance questioningly up at him. Honestly, to think that he had gotten worried over what Ryou had said. Laughing harder, he threw his head back and let his laughs make his shoulders shake with the effort. He was going to cut his arm off! Like hell! Ryou was just bluffing, and he couldn't believe he had fallen for it!

"You're right, Ryou," he said, calming down a bit, "you're not just quiet and meek; You're also funny as hell!"

Ryou looked up at him and frowned, but he didn't appear very angry, which was a bit odd. Or maybe, it was because of that smug look that was still plastered on his face. "Am I really? Tell me how, I mean, I'd love to know."

"Don't you play smart with me." Mariku growled, coming off of his high of laughing. He hated being talked to like a child. But his face lost its angry expression when he remembered that this person was of no threat to him. "…But to have me fall for an act like that…bravo. The thought is hilarious. Now untie me, and maybe I'll spare your life. I can't honestly believe that you'd thought that you'd get away with such a trick like that without being punished." Mariku smirked, gently letting the nervous flutters in his chest ease away. He was glad for their absence, and what all they represented. Really, he shouldn't jump to conclusions so fast. Amputation. Yeah, right. But, even still, there was still something that remained in his chest that kept him wary, remembering the way that Ryou had…_kissed _him.

"You're going to punish me, hmm?" Ryou grinned and tilted his head to the side, rubbing his hands against his chest. "I'll be interested to see how far you'll get with that."

"I swear to whatever god that's up there, that if you don't stop this right now, I really will fucking kill you." Mariku growled and bared his teeth, bucking up against Ryou's body, trying to get him off of him. Really, he didn't like him so close. "And wipe that damn smile off of your face."

Looking amused, Ryou tilted his head up at a haughty angle. "What, you're growling at me, now? Do you think that makes me scared? You sound like an animal." He paused for a moment, but shook his head, the smile plastered on his face never leaving. "And, but oh, Mariku. I have a lot to smile about. -…Would you like to hear?"

"Not particularly." Mariku only bared his teeth more at Ryou's remarks, trying to hide the flush that crept up his face when he commented on him being animalistic. Ah. Embarrassment. He had never felt that before… Mariku didn't like it, it made him feel weak. But, emotions generally did that. He didn't need them to plunge the world into darkness.

"Well you'd better start becoming more compliant," Ryou's voice took on that dark tone again, and Mariku wondered if he really was volatile. Shaking his head a little, he cleared it from his mind. Of course he wasn't. It had just been an act. "Because right now, you're at _my_ mercy, and if I don't like what you do, or say, I can make your life a living hell." Slamming his hands down on the wall on either side of his head, Ryou emphasized his statement and leaned in close to his face so that their foreheads were almost touching. "And right now, I don't exactly _appreciate_ you calling me a liar or an actor. If I'm such a fucking actor, if I'm so fucking hilarious, I want to hear you applaud me." Frowning deeply at him, Ryou's frown turned into a glare. Coupled with the artificial fluorescent light in the background, his pale face took on a eerie glow.

Mariku was at a loss for words, feeling his mouth go a little dry. But, he didn't understand. He wasn't scared of Ryou, he knew that this was all a big joke, and that he was just taking this too far, but… the facts made him question that idea. What reason would Ryou Bakura have to do this to him, if it was just a joke? They had never once spoken, and he had only seen him through Malik's eyes. And…he had killed Bakura, hadn't he? That had been Ryou's body, as he was his host. They had never met, and yet, Ryou knew him by name. Ryou had been quiet and kind, his face smiling in a cute way. There was nothing cute about this now as his arm was trapped in a tourniquet, Ryou claiming to prepare him for amputation. Maybe, it wasn't a joke at all, and he had just used that idea to comfort himself. Or maybe, all he needed to do was kill this boy.

"Well maybe I would," leaning in the rest of the way so that their foreheads did touch, Mariku's voice was a hiss as he grit his teeth an narrowed his eyes, "if you'd get this fucking thing off of my arm-Ah!" Eyes widening suddenly, Mariku gasped and recoiled so fast away from him that his head hit with a 'crack' against the wall. A sudden searing pain pierced through his arm and shoulder where the tourniquet was positioned. Pain…he loved pain. It made him feel alive, reminded him that he was living. But that was when he willed it. Pain… he did not love pain when someone else was in control. Mariku did not feel so self assured now. Faintly, he heard Ryou's harsh and mocking laugh.

"Why are you gasping, Mariku!? Are you in _pain!?_ I thought you said that I was hilarious! So come on, I want to hear you laughing instead if I'm so damn funny! Its rude to scream at someone's performance!" He hadn't noticed Ryou reach over to the machine, but he felt it now as the tourniquet tightened to an unbearable pressure around the junction of his upper arm and shoulder. It was as if he could feel the tissue underneath being compressed into his muscle, the arteries and veins being trapped underneath it as they pressed against the bone, squeezing them closer and closer together until he feared that his flesh would be either forced out through the openings of the tourniquet or be crushed and deformed in the process. The pain was unlike anything he had felt before. Shadow games, illusions… they weren't real, even if he could feel it. When Mai had cut his head off, he could feel the blade slice through his skin, tearing the muscle and mutilating his flesh as it went all the way through, cutting through his neck and spinal cord, but he had loved it. Because he knew that he would kill her in the end. It hadn't hurt, then. It just gave him a rush of adrenaline. This was real, though, and Mariku wasn't so sure if he would be able to still believe that Ryou was joking - and survive.

"F-Fuck, turn it off, turn it off!" His teeth ground together and his eyebrows furrowed in exertion as he fought off the urge to scream, kicking his feet against the floor in a desperate attempt to portray that he was serious. It wasn't begging or pleading, it was persuading. Mariku would never beg. Ever.

"Then do you think I'm still lying?! Do you think that what I'm doing to you is just a big joke!?" He couldn't even feel Ryou anymore, or the pain in his head when he had jerked back, through the haze of agony in his arm. Was Ryou still straddling him anymore?

"N-No! Just stop it, stop it! You're serious, it's not a joke!" Mariku didn't actually know if he believed that or not, he just wanted the pain to go away.

"That doesn't sound quite sincere enough." Ryou's words were sadistic as he felt his hands in his hair once again. "But in favor of having you not pass out so early, I'll ease up a little."

Grinding his teeth together in one last final effort to not scream, Mariku almost didn't comprehend it when Ryou reached over to his left once again and turned the knobs back to their original position. The pain left him numb to any feeling (almost exactly like the rod had), and Mariku's back stiffened up against the wall. He felt the pressure slowly let up on his arm to the point it had been originally, and Mariku let his head fall back, breathing deeply, his eyes closed. He could feel his breaths come in quickly, yet they were labored, and once or twice he coughed when the air didn't enter his lungs correctly. Mariku felt weak, and he couldn't stand it. Ryou had hardly even done anything and yet this is how he reacted? Like he had just been brutally abused? How had the pain spread so quickly if it was just in his arm? It was…because he was human. He was human, and he could die. His life could be lost so easily, and there would be no way back. He was not like Yami Yuugi. He was not like Yami Bakura. If he died, he would never come back.

"It'd be better if you calmed your heart rate. Having your heart beat so fast will just increase blood flow through your body, which I'm sure you won't like." Ryou's voice was harsh, and it cut sharply through his mind, making his head hurt with every syllable.

Clenching his teeth together, Mariku listened to what Ryou had said. It took concentration to keep his breaths coming steady and not raggedly. With his eyes closed, it made him feel a little bit better, not really feeling in the mood to look at Ryou's horrible, mockingly young face. He was such a tormentor, kept damn straight on having the bit of sanity that he had to call his own crushed beneath his every glancing look. Keeping his mouth shut, Mariku breathed through his nose and tried not to concentrate on where Ryou's hands wandered on him. Which was strange. His body was not fascinating. To him, to Mariku himself, his body was his ultimate prize for winning over Malik's mind. But what reason would there be for Ryou to touch him? They were both male, the same age; he was nothing special to Ryou.

"It still hurts." Trying to have his voice sound apathetic as possible towards the pain, Mariku would not give Ryou the satisfaction of admitting that the grip of the tourniquet still hurt him. But he _did_ want the thing off of him so that, of course, he could strangle and kill him, so Mariku would sink down to admitting his discomfort. Maybe Ryou would take it off if he talked calmly enough.

"What's the matter? Don't you like pain?" Ryou's tone was again the one of his usual quiet self, and it took him a while to reply, still seeming fascinated by running his hands over his chest. "No, you _love_ pain. So what reason would you have to want it gone? I know that you felt pleasure when I hurt you, and please, if it's pleasurable at all, feel free to vocalize it and not hold back." His voice was sickeningly sweet as he mocked him with a smile.

Frowning at him as Ryou shifted to sit upon his lap so that they were directly eye level, Mariku narrowed his eyes in hatred, and in confusion. "I never said that-"

"You did, Mariku. You told Bakura all about it, you fucking masochist, pervert."

"How-?" It was only confusion that he felt now as his mind tried to work over what Ryou had said. How had Ryou witnessed his duel with Bakura and Malik when he had not been there? Nothing with Ryou ever made sense anymore. He chose to ignore the 'pervert' comment for the time being. It was just another tick on the list of reasons he would have to kill him.

"Through our mind link." Ryou gave his twisted grin and tapped his head with one finger to emphasize his point. "You have one with Malik, too, but I suppose it wouldn't be the same as the one between me and my yami. After all, you _are_ Malik, the part of Malik who hates the world and all that it's done to him, a split personality created to help you deal with your initiation. But still, you are Malik." He paused for a second, seeming to think over his words, and Mariku too, did the same. It was all true, what Ryou had said. Too much true that Mariku didn't want to think about it, and never had. It was too hard, and it hurt. "I'm sure that you can find the part of you that was the old Malik and speak to him as I do with Bakura. Try it, Mariku. It won't hurt anything."

Ryou's words were beginning to bring up unwanted thoughts, the ones that he had tried desperately to hide beneath hatred ever since he had created this split personality. He was not ready to deal with the idea that he was one person, that everything he had done was nobody's fault but his own, that he had _created_ this demon called Mariku, himself. The thoughts made his mind real with confusion and fear. Fear. A new feeling; he never wanted to experience it again. With thinking of his psyche, the part of himself that was Malik began to resurface, and Mariku tried desperately to shove him back into the corner of his mind, scared of having him replace himself in their mind and to go back to the dark, relinquishing the hold and control over their body. It was his own personal battle as he sat restrained and hurting in Ryou's white hell.

"I can't. Fuck it, I can't. I won't." Fearing his own fear, Mariku was afraid when he heard his voice waver a bit, again afraid of having the control of being strong and unbreakable being taken from him.

"Do it!" Ryou was angry at his words, when he refused to obey his command. Eyes glinting with the now new look of insanity, Ryou hissed his threat. "You do it," his voice was a whisper, and Mariku strained to hear it "and I don't turn the pressure all the way up. You don't do it, and I'll say 'fuck it' to the damn LOP, and your suffering will be multiplied ten times worse when it comes time for me to rid you of your arm. A first of many lessons: you will learn to do what I say." Narrowing his eyes at him as he stared hard at him, his eyes did not leave his own until Mariku unwillingly gulped, still shaken from his thoughts of accepting that he and Malik were the same. It both amazed and angered him that Ryou could make him so horribly confused and…scared. He hated him for making him confront his own humanity.

Again trying to hide his shaken expression, Mariku wore the one of apathy as he closed his eyes again. Maybe what Ryou said was true, and it wouldn't hurt him to at least try to contact Malik. He was in the mood to use him as a scapegoat for his hatred, anyway.

Concentrating on trying to will him to appear, Mariku growled in frustration when he heard nothing. "It doesn't work."

"Whenever I speak to him, it comes naturally, like he's standing in my mind right next to me. It'll come if you try hard enough. Don't force yourself to concentrate, just relax." Mariku found it unnerving how Ryou's could be yelling and making threats of amputation one minute, and be soft and sweet the next. But unnerving was too soft of a word than what he felt when Ryou stroked his skin gently then. Was he gentle, or was he not?

He listened to Ryou's words, telling himself that maybe, he _needed_ to try and speak to the part of him that was Malik. Making himself forcefully relax, his face let up from his previously frustrated expression. His mind was blank, and he felt a bit ridiculous, trying to contact Malik when he knew that nobody would answer. They sat quietly for a while, the only noise the soft whirring of the machine next to him, and Mariku dully noted a sort of heavy feeling in the back of his mind. It was a mass of space in his head, and he could almost feel its physical weight as it grew, and with it, grew a soft sound of static. Frowning at the noise, Mariku gasped as a sharp pain was felt in his mind, and with it, came memories. They flashed against his subconscious, each one resurfacing feelings he had never had wanted to feel again. Memories of his imprisonment in hell, in the back of Malik's mind, where he watched silently as Malik suffered and he was unseen. They were the terrible memories that he had lived through, the ones where he begged to die, where he begged Malik to recognize him, where he slowly grew and learned to live off of hatred.

Bombarded with feelings, Mariku let go of a quick breath when everything went suddenly silent and his mind was plunged into numbness. Faintly, he could feel small tremors where his hand would tap against the floor quickly from shock of what he had been forced to remember. There were so many feelings now as he recovered from his onslaught of memories. Fear, anger, loneliness, sadness, hatred, he remembered feeling them all, but they were so foreign, the only emotion Mariku had hung onto being hate as he made the feeling his own, his way of living life. But he felt them all again now, and he remembered. He remembered the horrible, aching loneliness of his dark imprisonment, remembered the way that his creator, Malik, himself, did not even recognize his existence. The emotions were multitudes worse now as he relived them, and Mariku could not cope. Like an addict, ending those feelings had been the hardest thing he had ever done, being born, and reliving them again was all too easy. It hurt. Mariku ached with the reminder that he was human. Malik, it must have been Malik who did this to him, who made him remember his childhood. Malik was getting revenge for him taking control of their body. Damn him… would he ever be rid of his weak side?

"I can't hear anything." Struggling to keep up the normal, flat tone of his voice, Mariku voiced what both he and Ryou knew.

"You must have killed him. To not be able to feel the other half of yourself-… you're a murderer." Ryou's words were harsh, and they played upon an idea that Mariku was very familiar with.

Death.

He had always known of death. Death was his fickle lover who he played with promiscuously. It had been their father first, when he had first felt the adrenaline of killing, of freedom, of revenge. He had seen it, mused upon it, _lived_ it. After all, Mariku had never truly been alive before only such a short time ago. He was only a shadow, a fleeting thought in the back of their mind. He had been dead. And he had been prepared to kill Rishid, too, and Mariku growled inwardly at the reminder of _who_ had stopped him. Mai, she would be dead soon, and Mariku felt himself smirk a little at the thought that he would be her murderer in due time. And Malik. For so long he had wanted to be rid of him, to kill him, and yet, he couldn't, and he even if he could physically, he…didn't think he could do it. It would be heresy to kill the original part of himself, his creator. Mariku wanted acceptance.

But now, death seemed like an untouchable thing, a enigmatic thing. It was no longer so welcome in his mind. Ah, another feeling; the feeling of being lost. Without living close to death, what did he have? Mariku was human, Mariku was nothing, and he could be killed easily. Ryou, Ryou had been the one to make him see this, and it scared him. He was not a god and he could die just as easily as he could kill. He was not immune from death, him nor Malik.

"-Or he cut ties from you. Poor Mariku, all alone. No one wants you. Nobody ever wanted you."

He paused at the thought, blinking his eyes open to look at Ryou as he spoke to him, confused when his expression felt not cold and angry, but…despondent. Because…it was true, and he knew it. He had always known it.

"Your father didn't want you, he hated you. Malik didn't want you, he _hates_ you with everything that he has. You ruined his life, after all. He wants nothing more to have you dead, that is, of course, if he's still alive and you haven't killed him yet." Ryou smiled as he mused over this, and Mariku felt the familiar feeling of hatred, and it was a comforting thing. He hated him. Hate. But a part of him listened to his words and realized them for the truth. Could he hate Ryou for something that was not his fault? …Yes, he could. He could hate whoever he wanted! But if that was true, why did the feeling of sadness not leave him now? It had left him so long ago, but with remembering his childhood, it stayed, and would not leave. Ryou's words made it grow. "You don't even want yourself, Malik. You created the part of you, Mariku, to rid you of yourself, to take over so that you never had to live again. That's it, isn't it? You hate yourself. Even when you _created_ Mariku, you hated him. You tell yourself that you hate Mariku for killing your father, but you know that's not the real reason. You hate him for doing what you could not, for being the you that you could not be, and so you shunned yourself, Mariku. You are Malik, you are Mariku, and you hate yourself." His eyes narrowed in a fake softness, leaning in closer to him so that their skin touched, separated only by layers of clothes. And Mariku again was confronted with the very facts of his being. These were things that he could not deal with. Malik didn't want to accept himself.

Wrapping one arm around him, Ryou held him tight against his chest, his other hand groping his chest and thighs and anywhere he could reach. Molestation. His hands were not wanted, his touches were not consensual; just as he touched him and his body responded, Ryou's words were shaping his mind into what he wanted it as. Weak. "But I want you, Malik, Mariku. I think you're beautiful. With me, you're wanted. You are needed with me, and I plan on showing you this to my fullest extent. But you will never be loved. Love is not for a thing like you. I am not here to love you, but I want you more then anything else I have ever laid my eyes on. You are my prize, my grand token as I become god over the world with the sennen items. You were competition, Mariku, with your ambitions to rule over the world, and I couldn't have you jeopardizing my goals.

"But I promise that when the world is mine, you will be able to taste that power. I'm going to keep you, I won't let you die. You'll be my pet, wanted, but not loved. It's you who believes that emotions are weak, and if I gave into them, well…" Ryou lowered his head to the side and laughed lightly, glancing up to him with his damned eyes and dark expression, small smile accenting his now believable insanity. Mariku was not so sure that this was a joke anymore, "I believe that you would be the one to do me in at the end." Eyes glinting with a knowledge that went beyond his understanding, Mariku was once again surprised as Ryou held the back of his neck, kissing him.

It wasn't harsh like the other had been, but more soft, gentle, contradicting the words that he had just spoken. Ryou's kiss mimicked the way that he had said his life would be like, a pet, his pet. His lips were soft against his own, and there wasn't even a flick of his tongue against them. And this time, he kissed back, even if it was just as softly. There was a sort of desperation in the back of his mind that said to cling to this affection that Ryou was giving to him. After all, nobody had ever touched him so kindly as he was now, and he ached for his touch as he ran his hands down his back. But his words were not reflected over. Mariku knew that it was all a joke. And if it wasn't-

"Maybe I'm already fucked," Ryou's voice was breathy now as he drew away, speaking close to his ear as he rested his head on his shoulder, "because I love your body already." He paused for a while as Mariku was left to experience the feeling of disgust; he had kissed him back.

"Do you feel this?" Ryou was excited now as he spoke.

"No." Mariku was relieved when his voice came out cold, hoping that his moment of weakness was leaving.

Ryou's face was in front of him now as he grinned at his reply, the grin that he gave when he spoke of amputation. "For the past two minutes, your arm has been under severe pressure, and yet, you have felt nothing. You're ready for what I've brought you here for. I think it's time that you're ready to be rid of that arm."

There was no reason to be horrified of Ryou's words. After all, you laughed at a joke.

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**Reviews are appreciated**


	3. Part o3

**I'm not a medical student so I apologize if you are and see that some of the technical information is inaccurate.**

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"…Ryou?"

Mariku's chest felt heavy, an invisible weight inside of him that clenched up and made his heart beat faster. The joke needed to be over, now. It wasn't funny anymore. Mariku's laughs had stopped after the words last spoken. Ryou gave him so many new feelings… this one, he supposed, could be described as hopelessness. …But he was Mariku Ishtar, he couldn't feel anything like that, he wasn't helpless.

Ryou looked almost giddy when he replied. "…Mariku?" He mocked him in the same soft tone he had used. It was not right as Ryou grinned, showing his teeth, rubbing up all over his body and kissing his neck; Mariku wasn't someone who should be kissed, and at the very least, not in this situation. His touches seemed desperate as he moved his hands over him, as if there was not time to memorize every part of him. And Mariku wished there wasn't.

"Ryou… This isn't funny anymore." Mariku felt sick as Ryou moved off of him to stand up, smiling in that twisted way. Panicking when he began to leave him, Mariku became more desperate in his words to keep Ryou with him, and not off to finalize his plan. "Ryou, Ryou listen to me. R-Ryou, come over here. Please, Ryou, please come over here." God… he even sounded pathetic to himself. He couldn't help the waver in his voice. Please… had that word ever left his mouth before?

"Do you still think this is a joke, even now?" His back was turned to him, fluorescent light cast over his shoulders, accenting the folds on his striped shirt. There was something a bit melancholy how he stood in front of him, as if Mariku could pick apart at him until he found the reason of his actions if he tried hard enough. His hands were lax, palms facing inward, and the harder he looked at him, the less insane he seemed. Just a boy lost in his own delusional fantasies to find the world of reality crash around him. Was he regretting what he planned to do, what Mariku prayed to any divine being listening was a lie?

"I'm not laughing, Ryou." He was sure to make his voice as quiet as possible, to make himself as submissive as possible, even if it hurt his pride. Mariku would rather have that die then himself. "Come back to me, please, just talk this out with me. Please, Ryou, I know you won't do this, and I can help you, I promise." Was that Malik talking, or himself? Mariku felt lost here… as if he was disappearing and leaving his mind with only the original personality, the original Malik.

He heard a laugh, a soft chuckle, and Ryou turned to look at him over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed in what Mariku hoped was amusement. Glancing away with a small smile upon his lips to the medical table, he turned all the way back towards him. Reaching out with one hand, his fingers were soft as they trailed along his chin to hold his head in place. His touch made Mariku shiver with feeling. Everything about Ryou made him feel, physically and mentally.

"Why do you believe that I won't hurt you, Mariku?" He was a master of sadism as he spoke with his gentle voice and his gentle touch, stroking the skin of his jaw. "Am I really that much incapable of having you fear me?" Pausing, Ryou opened his mouth and then closed it again, kneeling down between his legs and pressing up to him. Refraining from trying to shake away from him, Mariku allowed his body to welcome him as much as possible. After all, a host should always be humble to their guest.

"Or is it that you're scared to believe me? Are you scared that I have succeeded in everything that I've said? Are you scared that you _do_fear me?" His lips replaced his fingers as he moved along his cheek. "This will… be the greatest moment of my life, everything I've worked for. I'm going to bend your mind and pick apart at your psyche until Mariku is dead and only Malik remains. I'm going to alter your body as I see fit. Just how your image of me is deformed, I'm going to deform you. Every part of you, every inch… Because your mind is something that should be worshipped. Oh little Malik Ishtar and his split personality… I wonder how long it would take to make him go insane?"

Speaking his words with the lift of made up song, Ryou grabbed at the collar of his cape suddenly, jerking it up so that they were eyelevel and Mariku found it hard to breathe.

"You'll learn very soon that you have every reason to fear me, _pet_, and you'll learn very soon to think over what you say before you say it. I don't really _appreciate_ you trying to twist my emotions to feel sorry for you. The world has never felt sorry for me, so I don't think it'd be exactly _fair_ to give those feelings out so easily. You have a long, long way to go until your death, so I think it'd be best for both you and me if you'd just be good and quiet and not talk back." Hissing, Ryou narrowed his eyes at him this time in anger as he stared down at him. And Mariku did as he said. He stayed absolutely quiet until Ryou threw him back against the hard concrete wall. This…wasn't…couldn't be real. Mariku wished desperately to stop feeling, to stop thinking, so that that this really could be a dream as Ryou stood again and picked up the rod. Chest clenching in fear, the feeling was cut short as Ryou pointed it at him.

His body a slave to the rod and its new wielder, Mariku was mocked down to the core of his existence.

How could he feel terror? How could he feel something as human as terror when Mariku was created from such a thing? Why was it that he was able to be shaken to the core with horror as Ryou undid the chains around his middle? Shouldn't Mariku be able to revel in the emotion? But he was just Malik. Just Malik, had always been Malik, and always would be Malik. There was no one else with him, no Mariku to save him. All that Mariku was was a lie used to comfort himself when he didn't want to take responsibility for his actions. There was no darker side in him other than his own self. Malik was Mariku. Malik was himself. Mariku was nobody. Malik was born from nothing other than the natural flesh and blood of his mother and father. Terror could be felt because terror was familiar in Malik's life. This was… just another obstacle. Just another layer on his life as Ryou took his arm out of the tourniquet. Just another obstacle as he lifted him up with effort and moved to lay him on the cold, metal table, strapping his wrists and ankles and thighs down. Terror was able to be felt because it was only true thing that Mariku, Malik had ever known.

Terror was heightened as Ryou left his field of view to come back with a medical saw. He brought no anesthetic.

Plunged in to the world of feeling when the hold of the rod on him was relinquished, Mariku gasped as if he broke the surface of freezing water. And he couldn't take it. Mariku realized Ryou for the truths he had told. He really, really was going to do this. Everything around him terrified him, the sights, the feelings, the smell. The medical saw, Ryou, the table, the bright, bright light burning into his eyes. The feeling of the table against his back, the feeling of his arm in an illusion of dissatatchment from the rest of his body, the feeling of terror itself. The smell of disinfectant, the smell of still water, the smell of Ryou.

Ryou

_Ryou._

_Ryou._

He was scared of Ryou. He feared Ryou. He didn't want Ryou close to him as he hopped up onto the table to straddle his chest. Everything about this room, his situation, his terror was Ryou. Ryou had caused it, Ryou had created it. Ryou and his beautiful face and his beautiful hair and his kind smile. Ryou wasn't kind. Ryou was an actor, a sadist, a product of the world's own pollution. Because hadn't it been the world that had created Ryou this way? Ryou was born innocent just as everyone was. He was not born a torturer. Someone had done this to him, had broken his mind down to make him this way. Mariku understood, Malik understood. Ryou was just like him.

Mariku couldn't keep his heart rate normal, and it beat so fast that he feared that it would kill him before Ryou did. His breaths were labored and they came in hard, hyperventilating when his wide eyes darted all around the room, settling on the medical saw. It was electric, suspended from the ceiling by a mechanical support arm, and the blade glinted, reflecting the fluorescent light above them. He was scared, like an animal. Ryou was right, he was an animal, cornered, terrified, resigned to death. But an animal fought back. Mariku was not. Mariku couldn't. Mariku was helpless against his attacker, the predator, as it had stalked him and paralyzed him, dragging him back to its den to devour him.

"Oh, Mariku." He couldn't decide if he wanted to fool himself into Ryou's fake caring, just so that he could be comforted. "Mariku, it's okay, it'll all be over soon."

Mariku knew that Ryou was doing it on purpose, pretending to be concerned as he tenderly stroked the side of his face with his pretty, smooth, pale fingers. His hyperventilation increased as Ryou leaned forward and moved his body back so that he rested on top of him, chest against chest, and head in his hands. He didn't want to be touched. He wanted to be let go. He wanted this to not be real. It was surreal enough, wasn't it…?

"Don't be scared, now isn't the time to be scared. Mariku, look at me." He knew that by saying those things, that it would heighten his fear only more with his coupled sweet voice. Turning his head to make him look at him, Mariku furrowed his eyebrows at the sight of his large brown eyes. "It'll be better after this. I'm going to take good care of you, much better care then how you were before. You don't need this arm, anyway. What use is it when you don't write with your left? It'll make you a better pet, and you'll always remember me even if I'm not with you. Getting rid of this problem limb will make you perfect."

Ryou's hands were soft as they moved down him, touching the sides of his chest where the chains used to restrain him. He wasn't surprised either as Ryou kissed him softly. But just as Ryou planned, his touches and kisses did nothing more than to heighten his terror. He bucked up against him suddenly, jerking so that Ryou was caught off guard and fell off of him slightly, continuing to thrash even when his touches stopped.

"Get me out of here!" Fuck, he was scared. "Stop this! I give up, I give in! You win, Ryou! Ryou, let me go! Please, _please Ryou!_" That had to have been Malik speaking. But Mariku agreed. Now was the time to ignore his pride and to save himself. This was so surreal.

"Do you ever even listen to me!?" Ryou was the one screaming now as he slammed his fist down onto his chest, successfully knocking the breath out of him. "This is the point, Mariku! The point is to show the world that I'm not some fucking little quiet boy, that I know how to hurt!" Mariku had never seen him this angry as he continued to punch him in the chest and face. The punches meant nothing. But his words did. Mariku was finding it harder and harder to try and console himself that Ryou was just lying. "And believe me, I'll hurt you."

Mariku believed him, he really did.

Having calmed down enough that Ryou wasn't screaming, but shaking in anger, he grit his teeth and hopped back up next to him, this time near his hips. Nervous and scared, Mariku's eyebrows continued to stay furrowed as he looked down at him. He felt like he was going to die. His chest was twisted and clenched and defiled with fear, and nothing that went on before his eyes was steady. It was a haze, a horrible, terror induced haze where nothing but similar feelings could be felt. And it made him feel sick.

"You need to calm down, Mariku." Ryou's voice was still slick with anger, and Mariku could feel the way that his shaking slowly began to recede, becoming more calm so that the anger almost left him complete. Almost, but not quite. "I can't have you protesting and thrashing around when I begin to operate, it would make things too risky, and I need to make clean cuts along your bone and arteries." Again, that sickness plagued his mind as he heard his words. "I need a way to make you relax, and to keep you still during the operation. A sedative would do quite fine, don't you think?" Speaking languidly, Ryou moved in a way that mimicked his voice, hopping again off of the table.

Mariku was so confused when he wanted Ryou to come back to him. He hated him, he feared him, like nothing other. But… he didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to be alone in a situation like this. Mariku wanted someone to tell him that it would be okay, and to touch him kindly, just like Ryou had. It was okay that he was just mocking his fear when he did so. All he wanted was someone to be there with him, even if it was the person who caused his pain. Without him, Mariku felt alone, isolated on the medical table, small, like he could be easily destroyed. Alone, Mariku felt like Malik.

"Ry-"

"I had planned to go to medical school, you know." Craning his head, Mariku could faintly see him at the other side of the room, where the counters were, going through different drawers and cupboards. The sound of his voice comforted him just a bit, just a small thing that let him know that he wasn't alone. Mariku had had enough of being alone… "'Brilliant', they had said, ' a natural'. Even if I was young, I was able to attend college classes in the summer, basic ones, never drabbling in anything for someone of more experience. But I've read, I've learned, and I've studied in my spare time, and in one area in particular.

Amputation and the sedation process interested me very much. I suppose that it was the feeling of power, the knowledge of how to render another person unconscious, unable to help themselves without their consent if I so pleased. And you'll be my first experiment, and if all goes well, you won't be the last. When Bakura rightfully steals all the senen items back and I am ruler over humanity, I plan on testing the limits of the human tolerance. How far can I go without killing? But, it's okay if I fail the first couple of times. I'll always remember you, though, even when you die."

Ryou paused, and Mariku's neck began to cramp, regretful that he had to lay his head back down. Ryou's words scared him, but it was a different feeling of fear this time. The fear of his seriousness, the idea that he planned to fully go into this, that in his mind, in Ryou's mind, everything he said made perfect sense, and was completely sane. Ryou was not sane, his words were not things a normal person said. He wasn't an actor, and he was hell bent on doing exactly as he had told. Ambitious, Ryou would stop at nothing until he achieved his goals. And Mariku despaired. He couldn't feel his left arm… Looking to the side, Mariku looked at the tourniquet glove that surrounded the junction of his upper arm and shoulder. What would he look like without it…?

"I've planned this for a while, Mariku. It was when Bakura handed me over to you, I think, that I knew that it would be Malik who was going to be my pet, who I would practice on. What sort of sedative would I use? Analgesia? Amethocaine? Halothane? Obtundation? All compounds of the basic chemical equation, but there's one similarity in all of them that I wasn't fond of; anesthetic. Because you see, Mariku, Malik…I want you to feel everything. I want you to feel the blade as it saws through your arm and tears through your flesh, nerves and arteries cut off. I want you to remember the pain, and remember that it was me that caused it.

…I'm going to use Rocuronium, a type of Neuromuscular-blocking drug, which is adjunct to anesthesia to induce paralysis so that I can operate without you thrashing around and ruining my work. And, my personal attraction to the drug: the patients are still aware of pain even after full conduction block has occurred. You'll feel everything, see everything, hear everything as the Rocuronium enters your blood stream, and you'll be helpless to do anything to stop me from amputating." And Ryou appeared in his area of vision, smiling down at him with his twisted amusement, needle in hand.

"R-Ry-…" He was Malik as he hyperventilated and felt his terrified body and mind freeze up. "N-Not a needle, put it away. G-Get it away from me, this isn't real, this isn't real-!" Squeezing his eyes shut, Malik shook his head from side to side, choking on his own terror, it suffocating him, taking his body over so that it was the only thing left to feel, and Malik wanted to die. Die here and now on the cold, metal table, and not have to feel what Ryou planned on doing to him. C-Cut his arm off? It…would be worse then the initiation. C-cut his arm off and keep him as his pet, his slave? Mariku's life, Malik's life would mean nothing. He would have been born for nothing, and the pharaoh would never be part of his mind again.

Ryou shushed him as his voice rose and his desperation increased, smiling in wicked amusement at his abject terror. Nothing that his mind told his body to do seemed to be working. His mind told his body to run and kill Ryou and save himself, to hide his face in his hands and sob. But his body disobeyed, and only listened to the straps holding him down and keeping him from doing such things. And still, a part of him refused to believe that what was happening was real, even as Ryou turned his left arm facing up and wiped an alcohol covered swab over the inside of his elbow, leaning over to kiss him after.

"You're going to do just fine, and I'll be quick, I promise. It won't be so terrible. I plan on giving you pleasure before I give you pain."

It was his last chance to save himself as Ryou lifted the needle up to the fluorescent light and tapped it to settle the drug, getting it ready to enter his arm. It was his last chance to save himself, his last chance, his last chance…! He screamed, he kicked, he thrashed, but it still did nothing. He sobbed and begged and pleaded, scratching at the table with his fingernails, kicking the heel of his foot down, but still it did nothing. Nothing he did helped him. Nothing he could do could save himself from Ryou as he smiled down at him. Mariku couldn't save him this time. Mariku had saved him from his life in the dark, had let him come into the light, but Mariku couldn't save him now. And Mariku realized this, and Mariku was gone. It was only Malik now. He was left to face what was happening to him. Alone. _Alone_.

"Everything will be okay, I promise. The drug will help settle your fear."

Fear, Fear? This went beyond fear. This was Malik being stripped from everything he had, everything he ever was and anything he ever could have been. This was Malik being reduced to the animal he was, struggling for life. Life, the basic foundation of…everything. And Ryou was going to take it from him. There were no words to describe what he was feeling. It was not something as easy as fear.

"I'm going to make you perfect."

A cold, prickling sensation at the inside of his elbow, and Malik didn't have time to scream again as Ryou pushed the needle into his arm, a beautiful pathway to his vein, where the drug entered him. And he was still, then. But not because of the drug, but because it…had started. He had done it.

Ryou had never been lying.

"See, Malik, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Ryou was quick to dispose of the needle and move back to him, lifting himself onto the table to sit next to him, stroking his face. "Like I said, scream for a more appropriate time." Malik's tongue felt heavy and flat against the bottom of his mouth. Maybe that was the drug… A wretched whimper was all he could manage, and Malik despaired when it not only displayed everything that he was feeling, but Ryou laughed at it. A cruel, mocking, harsh laugh. Ryou laughed at him, at everything he was, and at everything he had done to try and save himself. Ryou laughed at _him._

"I'm going to enjoy you so much." Making a pleased noise when Malik did not resist, Ryou leaned over him and kissed him on the lips. It was a soft thing, but what it portrayed was the opposite. Ryou was right when he said that he could feel anything but do nothing about it, stuck in a position of suspended animation, paralysis, as he moved his tongue into his mouth. Malik could feel that as it played with his own. Ryou tasted innocent.

Moving away after a while to let him breathe, Ryou looked at him oddly, and again, Malik despaired. "I was worried that since the Rocuronium is a form of neuromuscular block, it may have paralyzed the muscles required for breathing, and I would have to use mechanical ventilation to maintain adequate respiration. But it seems you're breathing fine on your own, so I can continue with my…plans." Kissing him again softly, Ryou moved down to his hips where he had been briefly before.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time."

Malik was confused as Ryou began to unbutton his pants, throwing his belt to the side where it landed with a dull thud. He wanted to yell for him to stop whatever he was doing, to jerk away from his fingers as they slid underneath the top of his underwear; but he couldn't. Ryou smiled up at him, keeping his eyes locked on his own as he unstrapped his ankles and pulled his pants and underwear down, leaving his bottom half cold and naked on the unforgiving metal table. Slightly, Malik understood. But…why? Why would he do that to him? Nobody had ever done anything like that to him before. Mariku- no, Malik was confused.

"Another perk of this drug is that, if stimulated, it will heighten sexual desire." His eyes were narrowed again and his horrible, horrible smile was present as he moved down to between his legs. Like always, his skin was smooth and his touch was gentle as he groped his legs, stroking the insides of his thighs, and Malik was transfixed by him. Wanting to object, Malik was scared to have Ryou's mouth so close to such an…important part of himself as he kissed slowly up the inside of his leg. A strangled sob left his mouth. Pathetic.

"You shouldn't be so adverse to this, Mariku, Malik. You should take pleasure when it's given to you. I won't be doing this very often in the future, after all. It will your job to pleasure _me_, so accept this and relax." His breathing shallow, Malik was horrified as Ryou took him into his mouth. He didn't understand… Ryou wanted to hurt him, so…why? He didn't want his mouth around him. Would he bite? Was that why? All that was left to do was to lay his head back onto the metal table and wait for it to be over, for everything to be over. He just wanted his life back.

It did feel good, Ryou's mouth, and Malik pined for his touch and attention in such a horrible situation, comforted when he could feel him near him, against him. His mouth was talented, wet and hot and- maybe he _should_ listen to what Ryou had said. Maybe he should just accept this, hold onto it. Because this wasn't hurting him. This felt…_good._

Ryou's tongue felt good as it curled around the head of his growing erection, teasing him just a bit as his hand gently squeezed the base. The question of whether Ryou had done this before came to his mind. To who, when? It wasn't thought of much as Ryou began to suck on him, coaxing him to reach full hardness, Malik gasping when the tip of his penis hit the back of his throat. He was right again when he said that the drug had affected him, reaching erection much sooner then he did with his own hands. He hadn't done it often, or for very long, but Malik had masturbated before, and, god, it was nothing in comparison to what Ryou was doing now.

Humming a bit, Ryou continued to suck and pump him up and down, Malik's breaths coming in shorter and shorter and leaving longer and longer. He didn't want to like this, to like what Ryou was doing. He _shouldn't_ like this. It was sick. Ryou would be the person who would kill him in the end, who was killing him now as the drug pulsed through his body. Ryou terrified him, petrified him, and who had, and would, hurt him to the point where the part of Mariku was gone, and only Malik remained. He was going to amputate his arm, keep him as his slave, his pet, and yet… Ryou had worked him to the point where he wished that he could thrust up into his mouth.

Everything slurred together as Ryou's mouth continued to stay on him, sucking and licking and doing every other little thing that he seemed so talented at. Malik panted, feeling helpless as he couldn't even beg for Ryou to stop, to leave him alone, and to not let him finish. Malik didn't want to reach climax. It would be admitting his helplessness. But if things went the way he wanted, he would be out of the horrible white room, away from Ryou and his crazed smile, and the Pharaoh would be dead, his life having meaning once again. Bobbing his head up and down upon him, Ryou shifted so that he lifted one of Malik's legs over his shoulder. Again confused, Malik could do nothing to protest as Ryou slid a finger into him where his fingers should never go. It didn't hurt necessarily, and it was uncomfortable, but Ryou's mouth distracted him as it did something different, tongue moving to a new place.

Moving his finger out, Ryou thrust it back in so that it reached the knuckle, humming again to distract him from the uncomfortable feeling. Choking a little, Malik could do nothing but endure it, moaning when he was sucked and licked and stroked. He cried out, furrowing his eyebrows, wanting to be away, for it to be over as he felt himself start to reach orgasm. He didn't want this, he didn't want this! Ryou's mouth felt too good…

Moaning when he felt Ryou pause, no longer sucking and touching him, Malik ached to thrust up into his mouth, and moaned again when is mouth left him in want. He had been close, too… Unable to look anywhere else but up, Malik's eyes widened when he saw Ryou above him, looking down at him, hand on the medical saw. He was transfixed then in horrible, aching, muted terror, knowing what Ryou was doing, and time went slow then. He could feel his heart beat like he was an actor in a movie, the film slowed down so that every movement he made was elongated and drawn out. Th…um…pp,…th…um…pp,…th…um…pp… He was so scared. Malik no longer felt pleasure. A twisted smile, and Ryou flipped the switch up.

There was a gentle whirring as the machine slowly came to life, and Malik could not tear his eyes from it. Not noticing when Ryou left his area of vision, Malik only gasped lightly when he felt his mouth around him again, as if he had never left. But even his strokes and sucks and licks could do nothing to keep his attention away from the saw as Malik watched in something more than terror as the blade slowly began to turn above him. The light glinted off of it, reflecting on every tooth of the saw as it turned faster and faster, warming up. Warming up for the task ahead of it. Malik felt sick. Physically sick. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to rid himself of the feeling of more than terror. He wanted everything to end.

The machine reaching full speed as the blade whirred and turned, Malik was reminded of Ryou's talents and presence as he felt heat beginning to pool in his abdomen, leaving him delirious and terrified, the feelings mixing into one horrible sensation as Ryou sucked harder and pumped him faster. He was terrified he was terrified he was terrified he didn't want to come. Sobs left his mouth in a desperate plea to be let go, to not finalize what he had started, but were drowned out by the sound of the medical saw above him. Malik was helpless to defend himself as Ryou sucked hard one last time and felt the heat that had accumulated inside him reach it's limit, cumming hard inside his mouth, Ryou swallowing all of it.

Orgasm took him over and left him blind and vulnerable to the world. It hazed over his mind as his muscles contracted and relaxed, breathing suddenly slower. Orgasm was like Mariku. It lied to him, gave him false hope. Mariku was everything Malik could not be; lies. Orgasm made everything okay; lies. Mariku could save him from anything; lies. Orgasm kept him safe for even just a brief moment; lies. Lies. Everything lied to him. Everything lied to him. Except Ryou.

Ryou had never lied to him.

Ryou had told him the truth.

Ryou kept his word.

Ryou was honest.

Ryou was the only truth Malik had left.

"R-Ryou…" Malik didn't understand that he was able to talk. He repeated his name when he didn't feel Ryou next to him, starting to panic a little. "R-Ryou-…!" He wanted Ryou to hold him. He wanted Ryou to tell him that everything was okay, that he wouldn't hurt him. Malik didn't want to feel so alone and scared, because…Malik knew what would happen next. He needed Ryou's soft hands to hold him and touch him and comfort him. The cold operating table was no substitute, and the only thing that held him were the straps restraining his limbs.

"I must not have used enough of the drug." Too tired to do anything other than lay quietly, Malik sobbed when he felt Ryou's hand on his forehead and his voice above him. Above him, near the-… "It's no matter, I'll just have to move quickly so you don't start regaining more control over your body." He heard a click. Malik was more then scared to open his eyes. His body was tired, but his body was able to hyperventilate and his mind was able to process more then fear. There was a short kiss to his cheek, and hands removed the tourniquet around his arm, a numbing sensation shooting throughout his body from the pivoting point of his shoulder.

"Now would be the appropriate time to scream."

Snapping his eyes open at his words, nothing came out of his mouth at first when he saw Ryou above him and next to him, the saw centimeters away from his arm. But the screams came in supple supply as he moved only a short amount, and the first, sharp tooth of the blade tore into his skin and ripped it off of him and through his flesh.

There was no word to describe what he felt as the saw cut through his nerves, tearing them, mutilating him, deforming him. It tore through everything. Skin, bone, arteries, tissue, muscle… it was an orchestra of pain, humming with deep bass and trembling with piercing treble. But there was no build up. It was all climax, forte. Blood splattered against the side of his face, gushing out of his arm and soaking his clothes. It was everywhere, everything, just like the pain. The pain was his world, everything he knew, and the only thing he could comprehend. And just like the more then fear, this was more than pain.

No words adequate.

He couldn't hear himself scream, couldn't hear his own voice as he desperately tried to portray everything he was feeling, but the boundaries of physical limit wouldn't let him, so he was forced to merely…scream. Malik could feel little bits of his flesh and skin torn from his arm splatter over him, blood covering him. Ryou had gone to no lengths to make sure that he wouldn't be messy with the operation.

Horrible, aching, piercing pain was felt when the saw reached the first nerve. The more then pain was something physical as it hazed over his mind. Pain was to alert the brain to what was happening at that specific part of the body, and Malik hated it. He knew what was happening, all too well. Starting to be unable to cope with the pain, Malik started to become lightheaded as the saw hit bone, halfway over. His screams, the pain, the drug, blood loss… they all contributed, and Malik wished for more than anything to faint. But even in the most helpless point of his life, Malik couldn't save himself.

Malik didn't know how long it went on, how long he continued to scream, or how long he was tortured beyond human comprehension. All he knew was the pain as it numbed his body so that it was all he could think of and live. Malik lived pain. He could feel the blood gushing out of his arm, wanting Ryou to save him.

Ryou…

Ryou who had done this to him.

Ryou had killed him.

"I-I don't want to die!" Were his words even recognizable through his more then pain?

"Then don't." Ryou…

"Save me! Help me, Ryou! Don't let me die!" If he didn't stop bleeding, he would die…

"You have to…pull off the…ah-… clamp yourself." Ryou's voice was heavy and strained, and Malik was confused through his haze of more then pain. The clamp…

The clamp had been connected to his nerve ending to keep the blood flow going. His nerve… Malik could not imagine the pain that would happen when he took it off. If he could take it off. M-Malik couldn't do it, he couldn't save himself. He was too tired, too light headed. Malik was going to die.

Malik didn't want to die. Malik couldn't die. Malik had to live.

It was the hardest thing he had ever done in his entire life when he slowly sat up. It was harder then when he had created Mariku and killed his father, harder then when he had lived through his initiation, harder then when he had dueled Yami no Yuugi through the rod, harder then the battle within himself with Mariku. The pain was like a wave as it washed over him again, making him scream in absolute agony with every little move he made, hardly noticing the tears of pain that had been spilling out of his eyes.

Moving with shaky limbs and a deteriorating consciousness, Malik saw Ryou. And again, Malik wished desperately to be sick. Sitting near his waist, Ryou held his arm, the arm he had cut off of him, and used his own hand, the one that he had had ever since he was born to masturbate with. He used his hand as he moved it up and down his erection, blood splattering from the end with every thrust of his hips and every movement of his hand. Drenched in blood, Ryou was almost unrecognizable as he looked at him with his young eyes. There was nothing young about Ryou as he suddenly gave his twisted grin and threw his head back and laughed, coming all over himself and the arm he had cut off of him.

Unable to watch any longer, Malik grit his teeth together and reached to his side, screaming louder as he moved his fingers over his open wound, flesh, muscle, tissue, bone… searching for the clamp. The touch of plastic against his fingers, Malik ripped it from his nerve. Almost immediately, his body spasmed, and then became suddenly lax, Malik giving into unconsciousness. He had tried to save himself, and maybe this time, he had been successful. But his life was in Ryou's hands, now. He had done all he could. Whether he lived or died wasn't up to him.

Ryou had spoken the truth.

* * *

**Reviews are appreciated.**


	4. Part o4

Mariku couldn't remember sleeping before. He remembered closing his eyes and falling into something that could be described as unconsciousness only once, after the first day of the Battle City Finals. But he had never slept like this.

This was sleep that took everything over. Sleep was a person pressing the 'pause' button on the remote that controlled his life, a suspended animation that lasted for as long as the user wished it, and until it 'play' was pressed after.

And since sleep was never experienced, Mariku didn't exactly know what was happening when he started to wake.

He felt so tired and lethargic, warm and comfortable, but there was…a distinct feeling of raw terror that resided in the back of his mind, that mingled in so easily with the other feelings that Mariku hardly noticed it, homogeneous in his mind. He wasn't able to think now, wonder what was happening, only able to be as he laid with his eyes closed upon something unfamiliar. Something warm was placed over his eyes, then, and Mariku felt like he was dreaming.

"Who are you?" The voice was languid, and it drifted lazily through his waking mind.

"I am Mariku Ishtar." The voice was calming, and Mariku relaxed further into his bordering state of conscious and unconsciousness, lips moving only in instinct.

"And who is that?" The warm world of his sleep stayed constant, and Mariku dreamed of only a black space of nothingness.

"It's me, Malik Ishtar, nobody else." Who was he? This was his body, his mind. He had earned it. Mariku's lips felt heavy as he talked.

"What makes you Mariku, Malik Ishtar?" There was a faint twinge in the back of his mind, the same part that hosted that raw, animalistic terror.

"I'm me. I was a slave to the Pharaoh but I saved myself, I brought myself into the light."

"Why?"

"…Why?" Why…? "Because I want to live, I want to be free. I don't want to be a slave to the Pharaoh or myself."

There was a pause, and that warm thing on his eyes shifted a little bit. It felt like a hand…

"What's wrong with being a slave, Mariku Ishtar? You would never have to support yourself or worry about surviving. Every decision would be made for you, you wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again. Does that sound bad, wrong?"

"I-" Mariku opened his mouth to say something, but closed it afterwards. In his state of sleep, their words made sense.

"It's not wrong, is it? You know it isn't… But," the voice sounded commanding, now, like its words were something to be followed, "it will take you a long time to realize that. A very long time, Mariku Ishtar, and the longer you deny it the harder it will be." There was something touching his face now, and it lingered, stroking the skin along his jaw. "I want to help you, if you let me. I can make it easy for you, or the worst torture you can ever imagine. When I lift my hand, you are not to look to your left, do you understand?"

"Yes." Mariku wanted to trust that voice. But he wanted to keep on sleeping, too.

"I hope you do, Mariku Ishtar."

Things felt different without the thing on his eyes (he had been right about it being a hand). He felt a bit lost, alone. …Alone. Mariku was always alone. Why did the hand have to leave him? Why did it have to leave him in the dark? Mariku was tired of the dark, his only companion. He wanted something to change, anything. He wanted his own world where the loneliness was created by himself, and he wanted something to fix it for him.

With the hand gone, he felt something against his eyelids, something that felt like sunlight against his face, and it was becoming harder and harder to sleep. Because in sleep everything was okay and nothing could ever be wrong. Mariku didn't have nightmares. His life was his nightmare, and nothing he could ever experience in sleep would live up to the standard of his life. And with waking, the terror that rested in the back of his mind began to surface more and more.

The fear was like a muted instrument as Mariku slowly began to wake up. It started out soft, the sound not all leaking through, but as consciousness came closer, the mute was removed and the instrument of terror played clearly in his mind. Why was he scared? Everything was so nice, now. It was soft and warm and not how… everything was supposed to be. He had to duel tomorrow. It was the finals… He was going to kill them, all of them. He was going to kill Malik and rule the world. Why was he here? Why was he acting like this? Mariku didn't ask himself questions like 'Why'. Malik did that, and Mariku wanted Malik dead. It wasn't easy to live, to wake up, but it was something that had to be done, and so a bit unwillingly, Mariku slowly opened his eyes.

He squinted as sunlight greeted him, grating against his nerves, unused to the sudden light. Mariku was confused when the light didn't leave him. Hadn't he drawn the curtains up in his room on the blimp? Then why…? It took a long while for his eyes to become used to the light, and the first thing he could make out was a blurry shape above him and to the right; a person.

"Who the hell are you!?" He knew he didn't sound the least bit threatening, still waking up and still groggy, but Mariku didn't care. He couldn't drop his character, after all.

"Don't talk to me like that." The shape above him started to become more defined as he squinted into the light. Mariku scowled at the words they had spoken. Who were they to tell him, Mariku Ishtar, what to do?

"What are you doing in my room?" His voice was still harsh and demanding, but it lost the edge of anger he had before, at this point just wondering the question he had asked. Later he would punish them for entering his room, of course.

"Your room?" The person laughed, and he could see them lean their forearms on their legs to look at him closer. Their hair was long… "Mariku, nothing is yours anymore. Shh, be quiet while you wake up. There's no rush to try and hide your fear with anger and hatred. It's okay, I understand."

Mariku made a move to open his mouth, to demand again and maybe throw in a death threat or two, but no words left his mouth, only a sort of strangled sound. Mariku hid his fear and uncertainty with hatred and malevolence… It was his way of staying strong, to reassure himself that he would always _be_ strong, that he wouldn't change and become weak just when he felt the thing called 'fear'. Because Mariku didn't feel fear, he felt hatred. How did they know? How _could_ they know? And if they knew, they could try to destroy him! No! Mariku couldn't have that! He couldn't have anybody know that! He had to kill them!

"Who the fuck are you!? I'll kill you, I'll kill you!" He wondered briefly why it was taking his eyes so long to adjust to the light, why it stung so bad and why it felt like he couldn't move his arms. The fear in the back of his mind grew stronger as he panicked inwardly. Panic? Fear? Why was he feeling these things!? Why did the question only make his fear grow more?

"Just calm down, you don't know what's happening. Be quiet, and I'll explain it to you, everything to you. We're going to have a long, long talk, Mariku Ishtar. But just relax now. Threatening to kill me won't do you any good, and you wouldn't get far, anyway." He knew that voice… And he remembered a time when he had heard his voice but couldn't place it before. When had that been?

"You have some fucking nerve." Mariku grit his teeth together, leaning his head back to stare up at the blurry ceiling. He could see little designs on the top of it, now. "I swear to whatever fucking god there is that you must have a death wish, or something."

"Not particularly." They sounded amused, and Mariku felt something around him move, the blankets, maybe, like they were adjusting them. Being in bed made him feel vulnerable… Where was his rod? His mind and memory was hazy and he couldn't remember where he had put it. Hadn't it been on his bedside table?

Mariku growled softly, breathing in deeply and holding the breath there. He didn't understand why he wasn't more angry. Shouldn't he be furious that someone had entered his room? Wouldn't, at any other time, he just grab the rod and stab them over and over and watch the flesh he had ripped from their body splat against the ground, blood oozing over the floor? Yes… Yes, he would do that. Blood gave him a high, the feeling of ending someone's life. Because he was the Darkness. So why then, wasn't he acting as such now?

"…Bakura?" It was easier to see, now, his vision almost completely clear as he looked over to his right, and was surprised at first to see the British boy sitting in a chair next to his bed. Surprise replaced his anger, and all he could muster was confusion.

"Wrong again." Bakura's voice was soft, the kind of voice he had imagined his mother would have had, if he had a mother. "That's the second time you've asked me that now. Don't you remember? But I suppose my medicine is doing its job if you don't." Although his face was a bit blurry, Mariku could see him smile, a grin. A smile on Bakura's face was something to be wary of. "I'll tell you again, Mariku Ishtar. I'm Ryou Bakura, and the thief isn't here right now."

"…Ryou?" Mariku wondered again why he wasn't absolutely furious, why he didn't want to kill this boy more then he wanted to just know what was happening. What was wrong with him?

"Mmmhmm." His hand was smooth against his face when he reached out to touch his cheek. Ryou's skin was so pale, contrasting against his own dark skin, and he felt younger then Mariku was, even though he knew that wasn't the truth. Trying to hide the little flinch when Ryou touched him, Mariku shook his head away and snapped at his hand with his teeth to hide the small bit of fear that he had shown. "You always act so animalistic." Ryou chided him, and his words struck a cord in him, as if he remembered a time before when Ryou had called him that. He growled again at his chastising tone.

"Get the fuck off of me." The threat seemed a bit empty…

"What do you plan on doing, Mariku Ishtar?" Ryou raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you going to kill me with the rod, or with your own hands? I'd like it if you'd tell me how you want to kill me…"

"I'm going to take the rod and stab your throat through, cutting an artery but missing your windpipe only a little bit and watch as you choke to death on your own blood" He grinned as he spoke his morbid words, shivering a little in pleasure at the thought of them. Mariku would love to see Ryou covered in his own blood…

"That's it? That's all you had in mind?" Ryou looked a little surprised at him, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "The great Mariku Ishtar, and all you can come up with is something as superficial as that?" He laughed, then, threw his head back and actually_laughed_ at him. "Did you really think that you'd claim the world thinking of such dull things like that? How naïve, Mariku!"

Mariku growled again, but it wasn't as heartfelt as it was before. He had asked himself before how was it that he was not feeling the hatred he usually felt, but now he asked himself how Ryou could laugh at him. Who had he ever met had ever laughed at him, right next to him, in his face without wishing for death? He was strong, and the world knew it. So then how did Ryou laugh and mock him so confidently? Mariku was set on unease.

Taking a look at him after he calmed down and stopped laughing, Ryou made a softer face and leaned over to touch him again. "Oh, don't look like that, Mariku. Don't be upset or angry or mad… Don't wish to kill me. For your sake, not mine, it will get you no where. Shh, don't be mad. I'm not going to hurt you now."

He didn't understand… He didn't understand why Ryou was treating him as if he was scared, as if he had reason to be scared, and as if he needed to be comforted. Comforted? He wanted to _kill _him. The only one doing the hurting would be Mariku. Anyone else, especially Ryou, just made him want to laugh at the idea.

"Where are we." He demanded, not asked, and Mariku shook his head away from his touch once again. Vision finally clear, Mariku was free to look around the room he was in now.

It was very different from his room on the blimp, with it's carpeted floors and suffocating walls. This room was much different. It was wide, open, with soft cream colored walls and a large window to his left. The walls were decorated with paintings of soft colors and painted in the style of expressionism, and there was furniture as well, different from the blimp again. An armoire near the foot of his bed, a desk, a table, and Mariku could make out a sliding screen door with a patio outside and a little bench sitting before the rail. The room felt warm, welcoming, but the most it did was scare him and make him nervous. He didn't know where this was… Mariku wanted to tear down the pictures and demolish the furniture, turn the walls black and rid the room of sunlight. Mariku wanted to make the room mirror himself, not the opposite.

"We're in England, Britain." Ryou seemed to choose his words carefully, and spoke them softly, as if one wrong one would send him into a fit of rage like he was so very prone to doing. But his explanation did nothing for him, and all Mariku did was stare blankly back at him. "Don't you know where that is?"

"No." He looked amused again, and Mariku scowled, shifting on the bed a little and tried to sit up, desperately looking around for the rod. This wasn't good…

"Weren't you ever taught geography, Mariku?"

"No. Malik was forbidden of learning such things, and I have no desire to learn about the world that I _am_ going to destroy. I don't need education."

"You like to be ignorant, then?" Ryou looked at him oddly again, and Mariku despaired when he couldn't find the strength to sit up. He was starting to become very unnerved… What was happening? "Britain is far away from Japan and Egypt. Where you were born, it is hundreds of miles to the northwest, and thousands of miles from Japan. This is where I was born, and this is where you will be staying for a long, long time."

"I don't understand…" What was wrong with him? Where had his anger gone?

"And that's why I plan on explaining it to you."

"…Where's my rod?"

Ryou frowned softly at him, shifting a bit so that the warm light on his shirt gave shadows a new pattern. Mariku noticed that his shirt had changed from his usual blue and white stripes to a sort of pale red color, the tailoring looking expensive. It was a small thing to notice, but Mariku wondered where he had gotten it. Faintly, Mariku wondered if he had been drugged, and if that would explain his somewhat hazy mind and his unnatural fear and unnatural inclination to _not_ have tried to kill him.

"It's not your rod anymore, Mariku. I told you that you no longer have any possessions."

"Give me my rod. Where's my rod!?" The panic was returning as the idea set in that Ryou was the one with his rod, that it was not with him at the moment. Without his rod, Mariku was nothing. He had no power. He was simply Malik, as weak as Malik, and as weak as the rest of the world.

"Your rod is safe, but you won't be holding it ever again." A pause, and Ryou moved to sit on the edge of his bed, leaning over him and placing a hand on his forehead. "Mariku… I've won."

"I don't-" He didn't want to be touched. He really didn't, but when Ryou touched him, he felt less alone…

"The senen items are all mine. I won the battle. Bakura and I won, and the Pharaoh lost. You'll never have your world of darkness, it's mine now. Everything is, including you, along with the rod." His voice was so soft and comforting, and his accent didn't distract. Mariku wanted to give into his voice and just listen to what he said. But Ryou was…insane. Honestly, honestly insane.

"You're insane." His voice was quiet as well to match Ryou's tone, but he glared up at him, nervous at their close proximity. "You're…fucking insane." He didn't know what to say. What was there to say? Ryou was insane, and that was it. "I'm nobody's. I wasn't the Pharaoh's, and I'm sure as hell not yours."

"Do you really not remember?"

"What?"

"Do you not remember anything that happened? Maybe those are Malik's memories, then. Maybe you really don't remember what I did to you… You let Malik take over in the end, after all. Tch." Ryou used that soft chastising tone again, but he pressed more into Mariku's personal space. "I thought you were supposed to protect him. Weren't you created to hide Malik from the world, to save him? So much for that…"

"You're insane." Mariku's voice wavered a bit, not knowing what else to say. "I don't even know what you're talking about." He couldn't continue like this, in a weak sort of state. He had to cover it up. He had to hide his weakness. "Where the fuck am I!? How the fuck did you get me here!? Get the fuck off of me!"

"No." Ryou grinned, and Mariku stared up at him nervously at the gesture. The grin wasn't kind or reassuring. It was malevolent, the kind of grin Mariku made when he hurt somebody. "You're my pet, Mariku, and you can't tell me what to do. I've won, and there is nobody you can run to save yourself. The world is mine, and you're my battle prize."

"..Liar." What else was there to say to someone when they spoke like this? But… Mariku was nervous. He had never spoken to Ryou, and hardly to Bakura. Why was Ryou doing this? What reason would Ryou have to sit and lie to him and want him as a 'pet'? Because the lie was completely absurd, too out there for anybody to take Ryou seriously. But the way that he had spoken about Malik unnerved him. What had made it so that Ryou could pick apart at his mind to know so much about their relationship? He had never even spoken to him…

Ryou hummed a bit, moving his arm to the opposite side of him so that he was trapped underneath his torso. "I'm a liar, Mariku?" Another laugh, and Ryou's face looked cold. "Maybe I should let you remember so that you could know what happens when you call me a _liar._" How was it that Ryou's face could look so dark in a room that housed light?

"Remember? I remember everything!" Another scowl was on Mariku's face, and he shifted underneath him, the blankets around him starting to make him angry. "I remember killing you! I won the shadow game! You should be dead, and when I get the rod, you will be!"

"Mariku…" Ryou was acting oddly, pressing himself up against him and talking quietly, breathy. "How do you propose you get the rod, when I have it?"

"You're n-"

There was a rustling of the blankets as Ryou moved an arm behind himself. With narrowed eyes, Ryou smiled at him, and reached out to hold his chin between his fingers. Transfixed with Ryou's face in front of him, Mariku was silent as the rod was dangled in front of him, the circular head of it swinging before him like a pendulum. The light of the room glinted off of it, and Mariku froze. His rod, his life, in the hands of the enemy.

"Would you like to see more, Mariku?" Ryou's voice was mockingly sweet as he continued to dangle it in front of him. "I have them all… And my world is the proof that I have won. I'm not so much of a liar, Mariku, so much that you are a coward to accept this. Look outside."

He watched him silently, calculating when the best move would be to jerk his knee up to his chest and send him sprawling off the bed so that Mariku could steal the rod back and kill him. Because he was resigned to doing that, now. The lies had gone on long enough. He wouldn't regret killing this boy.

"I told you to look!" The hand holding his chin jerked his face to the side, Ryou's voice raising as he screamed at him, and the idea of Ryou being crazy was a lot easier to believe when he saw the look in his eyes. "Look at my world and tell me that I'm a liar!"

Willingly, Mariku did as Ryou said, only to prove him wrong and continue with his plan. But as he turned his head onto the pillow to look, Mariku froze with words still in his mouth. How could he call Ryou a liar, when everything he had said was true?

"What-…" He felt sick, like he wanted to gouge his stomach out to rid himself of the horrible feeling he felt, not daring to tear his eyes away from the window. "What… are they doing?"

"Mariku, since I am god over this world now, don't you think I should do a little…_cleansing?_" He spoke softly, but there was a touch of madness to his voice, and Mariku did not miss it, just like he could not miss the streets upon streets of people down below the room, lined up single file, being led to a single black warehouse, where nobody left once they entered.

"What-…" He didn't understand, he didn't understand, he didn't understand…! Ryou had never shown an interest in the senen items! Ryou was a kind, soft spoken boy who was the blunt of Bakura's mistakes, easily forgotten. He was kind and innocent and- this was too unreal. Too surreal for Mariku to believe. He had fallen asleep to wake up to duel in the morning, not to wake up in a foreign room and have lies of victory thrown at him. Things like that, like this… just… didn't… happen. It just… wasn't… real… couldn't… be… _real._ "What did you-… do?" The last word was spoken quietly, a whisper, and Mariku felt the core of his being be shaken with fear. This wasn't real, couldn't be real, and yet, Mariku knew fundamental truths of reality that said that everything he saw, everything he was experiencing now, was in fact… real. That Ryou, little, quiet, pretty Ryou, had destroyed his dreams and beaten him to his goals. Mariku hoped desperately to be dreaming.

"What did I do?" Ryou continually smiled, moving his hand so that it no longer held his chin but pet the side of his cheek, making Mariku shudder and close his eyes, still sick. Why wasn't he killing him, now? He had to have been dreaming. "I got my revenge, and everything I ever deserved to have. Along with you, Mariku." He was close to him, now, and Mariku could feel the breath upon his jaw as Ryou spoke. "I deserve you, own you, own the entire world… It's all mine, and will always be that way, forever, now."

"You can't own me." Something inside of him protested at Ryou's words, a feral animal biting and clawing and snapping its teeth at the bars of its cage, desperately trying to escape to kill the person who had tried to hurt them. "I-I'm free." The piece of his rational mind that told him that this was not a dream despaired then, knowing full well what had been lost. He had freed himself… He had taken himself and Malik out of the darkness, out of the Pharaoh's grasp and into the light to live their own life. N-no… it had to be a lie. To be enslaved again would be the ultimate mockery to his life, and Mariku would not accept it. He had done too much to try and _live_ for it to be destroyed now, crushed in the small hands of Ryou Bakura.

There was a small touch of something upon his face, and Mariku drew farther back into the pillow, wanting to take the rod that Ryou was using to trace up and down his sides to kill him with. "Not mine…?" Mariku could feel Ryou's lips against his face as he spoke, and he wished more then ever to be far, far away from him, back to the blimp, and to be comforted with normality of his sadistic self. "Mariku… A dog wears a collar because it is the possession of its Master. A slave is branded so that it knows who owns them. And Mariku…" Ryou paused, shifting so that his hand rested near his left arm and his face was above him, their eyes locked together, Mariku too terrified to look away. Terror… "The arm I cut off of you is your collar that binds you to me._Forever._"

And with his last words, Ryou kissed him, connected their lips and _kissed_him. Kissed him while his words made him _remember._Mariku remembered everything. Mariku remembered the terror and the fear and the last moments of his life… The saw and the blood and Ryou's smile and mouth around him. He remembered the unbearable pain and the needle. And most of all, he remembered Ryou's promise to him. The promise that he would make him perfect and make him his.

Ryou was not a liar. He had never lied to him, everything he said had been the absolute truth. Ryou had won the world, and Ryou had destroyed him. Destroyed, demolished, _mutilated_. And when Ryou's pretty, pretty pale hands, the same hands that had held the saw that had deformed him moved to the left side of his shoulder, Mariku lost hold on reality. Because feeling his fingers where his arm used to be made everything real. Mariku wasn't dreaming, he had woken up a long time ago.

* * *

**So Mariku, in this fic, is a bit more human then he is in the canon series. I try to make things realistic, and there is no such thing as a completely sadistic, evil person. I don't think Mariku is evil. He is human just like the rest of us, and I think he feels fear just as much as we do, but hides it behind his 'insanity' and sadism. Ryou understands this well because -oh shit, spoiler, can't say-, so he plays on it and Mariku's mind, picking apart at it like a game. Without Mariku's rod and his need to be sadistic, he is a bit like Malik, since they're, you know, the same person. I like to think that their personalities might get muddled up a bit, and they're not so different as they appear to be. **


	5. Part o5

There was a ticking somewhere, and it was driving Mariku insane. At some points, it would seem like time had stopped, where the ticking ended, and Mariku waited nervously for the silence to continue to stretch on so that he could relax, only for it to continue and for his nerves to fray. It burned into his mind, every tick, every second on the clock counting down his impending terror. What? When…? Where? How? _Why?_

Why? Why was this happening? Why was it so that Mariku was able to feel fear? Why was it that he had been stripped from his power, his inhumanity? Why was it that once he was finally able to taste freedom, it had been taken from him? Why? Why? Why would the person do such a thing to him? Why was it that he felt his personality and demeanor slipping through his fingers with every tick of the clock that hung on the wall? Why? Why?

Where was his arm.

When did this happen to him?

What happened to him?

How did this happen?

His arm was gone. _Gone_. Separated from his body. But… Mariku could still feel it. He could feel his arm as if nothing had happened. He could flex his muscles and he knew his arm was there. But Ryou said it wasn't, and Ryou didn't lie. If Ryou told him that he had taken over the world, if he was his slave and that he had killed his opponents then- Mariku would believe him. He would believe such an incredible lie like that. But he couldn't believe that his arm was just _gone_. He remembered too distinctly having it, for his entire life, and he could feel it right now. Someone's arm couldn't just be there one minute, and be gone the next.

He had remembered little bits of memory when Ryou had …kissed him. Maybe not memory at all, but flashes of information. There was a saw and there was an incredible pain. White hot burning light and the distinct feeling of pleasure before it's countering hell. But it was hazy, and Mariku didn't know exactly what the flashes of visions were, whether they were actual memories, or a way that Ryou tried to play with his mind.

Staring at the wall again, Mariku sighed and looked out the window, watching the curtains flutter in the soft breeze. It was a nice day, he thought. Because since Mariku had only had the opportunity to be actually alive and in control of their body for about a week out of his life, he wasn't quite sure what a bad or good day was. Any day that he was alive and breathing was good. Shaking his head, Mariku frowned and sniffed at a sudden good smell. _Food_. He had forgotten that he was hungry…

He wanted to twist his head to look at the door and wait for it to open. But being restrained limited this and he could do nothing other then sit and wait. He frowned deeply, twisting his wrists in the rope that wrapped around them and held him to the headboard of his bed. There was no way that Ryou could have cut his arm off; he felt the rope surrounding it now, rubbing against his wrist and chaffing his skin. He was tolerable against pain though, so it was manageable and he only continued to keep staring outside.

If he craned his neck far enough, Mariku could almost see down to the street below him. It wasn't as if his room was up very high, and he could see rooftops of other houses directly in his line of sight. There was one house made out of brick that he found interesting especially.

Having lived away from civilian life as a child and in the confinements of Malik's mind and then having only seen so much of Japan from the blimp that he had dueled on in the finals, Mariku had never really seen much architecture. He had never really seen houses, only those through Malik's eyes, and his vision was blurry when he tried to see what Malik was seeing. He wondered if the houses here were different from the ones in Japan or Egypt. They were mostly made out of brick and some had patios with black railing surrounding them. One house had flowers on the patio, one kind looking like a vine and it traveled down the side of the brick house and the leaves would make the entire vine move when the wind blew. Another thing he had never truly seen… plants, or at least, this many of them that the house had on its patio.

But there was one house that caught his eye the most. It wasn't as if it exactly looked different from the others, but this one had _people_ in it. He could see their silhouettes through the curtains, or sometimes if they opened the window. People… he hadn't seen any other people besides Ryou. Sometimes they would scream at each other, raise their voice so high that Mariku could almost make out what they were saying. But most of the time, they cried. They liked to do that a lot. They would sit and cry and hug each other. Mariku knew that if it was _before_, not now, that he would laugh at their weakness, their emotions that made them human, and turn in disgust away from them. But now all he felt was jealousy.

They had at least comfort with each other. Mariku had nobody. He had nobody he could cry with, to vent out all of his regrets and …sadness of never having had a life. He wanted to. He desperately wanted to, and always had. But emotions made him weak, made him vulnerable and pathetic, so he did the next best thing. He hated. It was an easy way to cover up the aching loneliness with hatred, and Mariku did it well. But… still. He found it a bit pointless now. After all, if Ryou was truthful… there would no longer be a point in trying to save himself by acting strong. Making a noise in the back of his throat, Mariku closed his eyes briefly, opening them again when he heard the people.

"He's going to kill us."

That was their favorite thing to say. Mariku sighed and turned his head to stare up at the white ceiling, watching shadows move across it. This was one of their favorite conversations, and he had heard it all before.

"He's already killed Jessica and Amanda…" "What about our families!?" "Why isn't anybody stopping this?!" "Please, god, I've never doubted my faith, I've been truthful and honest, why are you doing this to us!?" "I don't want to die!"

His eyes were cold as he stared up at the ceiling, listening to their somewhat muted voices. Death, death… Something had happened to the world, and Mariku had a morbid curiosity to know just what. Sighing, he let his eyes drift over to the wall next to him. He couldn't turn his head much, because Ryou had put something next to the left side of his neck to make sure that he didn't look to the left, although he didn't know what he was trying to hide… Wanting to be away at the very least, Mariku wondered where that good smell of food had gone. And as the voices continued to raise in terror and volume, so did the ticking of the clock, as if it was trying to drown out their voices. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his hands, uncomfortable in the position he was in and feeling oddly vulnerable as well.

_Tick tick tick._

Everything hurt, in his mind, and on his body.

_Tick tick tick_.

He could hear their voices growing louder.

_Tick tick tick._

It was starting to make him go mad…!

_Tick tick tick._

Why wasn't he saving himself!? Why wasn't anybody saving him!? What was going on!?

"You're up early."

Mariku gasped and his eyes widened instantly, breathing hard, almost in a pant. He looked around wildly, trying to find the source of the voice, and his fear only increased as he saw Ryou near the door, closing it with his foot, a tray in his hands. He was smiling and his eyes were closed. Wearing a dark blue shirt and white pants, Ryou looked as though he had been taking consideration into his appearance, and he looked much nicer then from his usual 'don't really care' look he had always had before.

"I was expecting you to sleep a bit more. Your body needs to recover, after all." He looked over at him and smiled. Smiled as if nothing was wrong. Crossing the room, Ryou set down the tray, and Mariku could see that there was food on it. Having been shaken from his previous thoughts and feelings, Mariku was suddenly reminded of the desperate sounding voices as Ryou frowned at the window. He fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves, rolling them up a bit before putting his hands on the ledge of the window, and pushing down shut with a bit more force then seemed necessary, cutting off the voices instantly. Frowning again, he turned to him. "You should have told me that they were making such a racket. I don't want you listening to things like that, anyway."

"What are you doing?" Mariku was surprised that his voice was calm, since inside, he did not feel as such. He was nervous, wary, tentative, _afraid_. The fear of fear…

"What am I doing?" Ryou laughed a bit, just a soft chuckle, and then flicked his eyes back up to meet his, and Mariku was taken aback from the sudden cruelty he saw there. "I'm just here to take care of you, after all. Just a bit of company. After all, you're _all alone_. I thought you'd might like someone to talk to."

They stared at each other for a while then. Mariku's lips were parted slightly and a smile graced Ryou's own. Faintly, the ticking resumed, as if it had been waiting in suspense to see what would happen and then remind them that it was still there and should not be forgotten. Eventually, Ryou broke their eye contact and smiled again, closing his eyes and moving his head away. Heart thumping in his chest, Mariku's mouth felt dry and he gulped, watching him trace patters along the corner of the silver tray.

_Tick tick tick._

"I brought you food." Looking over at him again, Ryou's normal expression was back and his eyes were void of anything other then just a natural look. No cruelty, no sadism, no insanity. "I thought that you could eat while we talked. I'm sure you're hungry, after all. Not that I've been particularly neglectful, but I hadn't fed you much while I had you under sedative-hypnotics, which then I used Flunitrazepam, a type of Benzodiazepine or psychoactive drug. Since it'd be risky to try and feed you with your central nervous system under depression, I thought I'd wait until later to feed you." Sitting down in a small chair next to the patio, Ryou leaned his forearms onto his knees and shrugged. "I mean, when using a sedative, it has anesthetic properties, and in deep sedation there's always a possibility of the patient being unable to breath on their own since their muscles are so relaxed under the drug. I made certain care with you so that it wouldn't happen and you could breathe easily, but still, I'd rather not feed you when there'd be a chance of airway conjunction."

Mariku eyed him, frowning nervously. He didn't understand much of what he was talking about. Or maybe that's what Ryou was trying to do. Maybe he was trying to intimidate him through his knowledge in the medical field. But it didn't matter, Mariku had the ability to kill, Ryou did not. It was strength that mattered, anyway.

Shifting so that he crossed his legs slightly, Ryou smiled at him in the way that made his eyes close. "So, are you hungry?"

He took a long time in replying, still nervous as to what Ryou was up to, and what he wanted. What _did_ he want, after all? What did he want that would make him lie and say that he had won the senen items and cut off his arm? Or, if he wasn't lying and he really was truthful… Mariku shuddered. "…Yes." It would be pointless to lie. He was hungry, and he wanted food. That wasn't weakness, right? Everybody had to eat…

"I thought so."

Fussing a bit with the decorations on the small table Ryou had set the tray down onto, he eventually stood back up, picking up the tray. It glinted in the light, the silver metal well polished as he carried it to him. Reaching his bed, Ryou set it down on a table next to it, and Mariku turned his head to see what he had brought. It looked simple enough. Some fruit, a sandwich, and something that looked like yogurt. There was something else that looked somewhat like eggs but he couldn't move his head farther to see. Having set down the tray, Ryou moved over to his bed and sat down right close next to him, folding his legs underneath himself.

"I'm in a transition period, so I don't have anything that elaborate to give you. Later, when we move to our permanent residence, I'll have many cooks to choose from to make wonderful things for you to eat, but this is all I have now." His words struck something in him, something that instantly rebelled against the way that he spoke to him. But Mariku said nothing in hopes of not making him angry as it seemed he was a bit prone to doing now. Ryou looked fondly down at him, reaching out a hand to stroke the side of his face. Knowing his vulnerable position, Mariku didn't want to come off as more weak then he already was forced into being, and growled, snapping his teeth at his hand. Ryou laughed and made a remark about him having done something similar earlier but still it did not stop him and he continued to pet him.

Pushing down a little harder on his cheek, Ryou let his fingers trail down the side of his face until they rested near his chin. He turned, reaching over to pick up the plate of food and set it in his lap making Mariku look down with interest. A piece of orange fruit was presented before his face. "I'm going to give you something light so that your stomach gets used to food. Now, eat."

Mariku paused, wondering how he expected him to manage to eat with his hands restrained before coming angry and growling once again, pursing his lips and refusing the food that was given to him. Ryou frowned at this and the hand that was petting him moved to hold his head in place and tangled his fingers into his hair in a hard fist. He forced his head to turn more towards him, and pressed the cantaloupe to his lips, frowning harder when he refused to comply. Mariku wouldn't let himself be fed.

"I told you to eat."

A glare was Mariku's reply, not wanting to open his mouth to protest in case Ryou might try and force him to eat when he did so.

"Don't be ridiculous. You're not saving your pride anything by refusing my food. All you're doing is humiliating yourself by refusing to do such a simple thing. I'm not going to untie you, so you might as well do as I ask. The only thing degrading about this is the fact that you're refusing your body the nutrition it needs in some sort of silly way that you think will boost your pride." He looked down at him in a sort of superior way, like Mariku was just an animal that was being stubborn, and he was absolutely right. "It's not like I don't know how you work. I do; I know the reason behind every move you make, and the reason you do so. Now, eat."

His manner of speaking was like an adult, one that said there would be no arguing without question. Scoffing a bit, Mariku growled lowly in his throat, angry that he was being spoken to like a child that didn't know anything. Narrowing his eyes and looking up at Ryou, he parted his lips and took the food out his fingers quickly and chewed his slowly. Even if he was in this situation, he would sure as hell make sure that Ryou knew that he _hated_ it, but would comply because fuck… he was hungry. And if he made a big enough fuss and was angry enough about it, then it wasn't so humiliating. He would go down with a fight after all.

Ryou smiled as he took the food from his fingers, letting up the grip on his hair just a bit, although he kept his head forcefully turned towards him. Picking up another piece, he placed his near his mouth again and Mariku snatched it away with his teeth, grazing his fingers in a way that Mariku showed that he was still dangerous, even in his position. It went on a while like that, and nothing was spoken between them, Ryou's hand eventually leaving his hair to touch him again, then on his chest and down his sides, making Mariku shiver. He did feel a bit better, though. He wasn't hungry anymore and he relaxed from being in Ryou's company. Ryou hadn't done anything yet to make him nervous yet so his muscles untensed and he was able to relax just a bit. Nothing drastic.

The fruit ran out eventually, and Mariku opened his mouth expectantly and glared at Ryou when food was not immediately given to him again. Ryou made a sort of chastising sound before taking the plate of eggs and cutting them up. This was a bit more degrading as Ryou fed him slowly with a fork. The eggs tasted good, though, the sunny side up kind, so Mariku didn't complain much except for the occasional glare just to remind Ryou that he was hating being treated like a child. And after he was fed the yogurt and the sandwich that was ripped into smaller bite sized pieces, Mariku felt a bit content. That was…despite the fact that he was living in a sort of surrealistic hell.

"Are you thirsty?" Ryou was always so polite in his mannerisms and the way he spoke, folding his hands in his lap after he had finished feeding him.

Shrugging for his reply (because Mariku didn't really want to admit _again_ that he wanted something), he watched as Ryou leaned over and picked up a glass of water, setting it at his bottom lip carefully and lifting it up slowly so that he wouldn't spill it. He was again humiliated as he let Ryou hold the glass for him as he drank, but he would not show his embarrassment. Showing his embarrassment would only be showing his weakness and humiliate him farther. Ryou couldn't know how disgusting he felt to be at the hands of one of his enemies and drinking from the cup they held for him.

Sputtering a bit when Ryou took the glass away and set it back down on the table, he smiled softly and wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin, getting rid of all of the water and earning him another glare.

"Was that so horrible?"

"Yes. And next time it won't happen because I will have killed you by then and I'll be out of this fucking rope you've tied me up in, you little bitch." Mariku was sure to use the majority of the profanity he knew in hopes of maybe intimidating him or getting him to untie him. Although it wasn't likely. Ryou was crazy after all.

"'A little bitch'?" A laugh on Ryou's part, and Mariku bared his teeth in anger. "Funny, but I think in _our_ relationship, Mariku, _you'd_be considered the…'_bitch'_" Looking at him in amusement, Ryou's smile was no longer the one that was kind, and Mariku could only stare at him as his words sunk in. Was this a dream or was he truly awake?

The silence stretched out and Ryou once again started touching him. His hand wandered all over his body. He paid special attention to his neck and chest, pressing down his fingers on his neck right above his trachea, and Mariku could feel his heart beat heavily in fear. Fear, fear… The fear was back. And Mariku needed to save himself. There had to be some way to save himself, to get himself away from this madman…

"What are you thinking about, Mariku?" Ryou's position had changed and he now laid on his side facing him. He ran his fingers and hand across his chest, flicking his eyes up to his and smiling. Mariku didn't like how he kissed him. It was a pointless gesture and one that Mariku didn't understand well anyway. There was no reason to give him affection.

His lips stayed unmoving, and he refused to tell.

"Come on, you can tell me. I want to hear. You have to tell me, Mariku. I'll find out sooner or later, anyway." He moved his body so that he pressed up next to him, leg moving between his own. Mariku gulped nervously and looked down. "Tell me, Mariku. Tell me now or I'll make you tell me."

"I'm going to take the butter knife you used to cut the eggs with and stab it into your throat, but only enough so that you wouldn't die immediately, but choke to death slowly on your own blood." Were his plans ruined now?

"Hmm…" Ryou closed his eyes and hummed a little before looking back up at him and smiling softly. "Morbid. But, well, to do that, you'd have to know the anatomy of the throat. You see, if you were careless, Mariku, you might bypass the trachea and just stab me in the vertebral column, which would cause only minor paralysis depending how deep and where you cut me, but maybe if you hit the spinal nerve, I might be paralyzed for life. But if you really wanted to, how did you say it?, make me 'choke to death on my own blood'? Well if you wanted to do that, try stabbing right here." Ryou lifted his head up and pointed to his neck, his finger stroking a part of his skin right below his chin. "Stab me right in the esophagus, but make a little cut in my trachea. Then the blood flow would redirect through the cut and have me 'choke to death'. Understand?" Another smile, and Mariku was confused. What was Ryou doing? Was he playing with him? He had just told him the exact way to kill him… What was he up to?

"I gue-"

"So I have a bet to make with you, Mariku. I'll untie your left arm, and if you can reach over and grab the knife, I'll let you kill me, but I'll only untie your left, not your right. I'll lie down, present my throat to you, instruct you how to make the cut, and let you kill me. But if you can't, then you'll start to try and obey me when I tell you what to do, pet." His hands were both trailing up to his neck where he held onto him, linking his fingers behind his head and leaning in close to him. Ryou's breath was hot as he spoke. "You win, and you kill me and will be free for the rest of your life. You loose, and things will continue how they are now, and steadily grow worse for you. Sounds fair enough, doesn't it? Which one do you choose?"

The choice was clear enough. It was obvious. Of course he would chose to be untied! The table was only just right there! It would be _easy_ to grab the knife! But… Mariku chewed his lip, closing his eyes before Ryou kissed him softly. Something was off. There was something wrong about the situation, and Mariku didn't know what. But still, he had to try. He could only gain, not loose. Mariku didn't understand Ryou's want to kiss him as he drew away so that he could speak his answer.

"Untie me."

Ryou looked at him in a pleased sort of manner, kissing him again on the lips before moving his hands away from the back of his head. "As you wish, Mariku. I hope for you that you made the right decision. Let's see if you can go ahead with your plans."

He moved away from him so that he could sit up on his knees. Leaning over Mariku's head a bit, Mariku was positive that he felt Ryou's hands on his left wrist, untying him, and that he could feel the rope fall away. His arm was there, there was no problem, there was no question. He would kill Ryou and be free forever, just like he said… Mariku felt a bit sick with apprehension as his heart beat incredibly fast, watching as Ryou sat back to face him.

"What's wrong, Mariku? Why do you look so scared? I untied your arm, just reach over and grab it."

He was hit with an incredible need to cry, an overwhelming desire to break down and scream and rock himself back and forth as he pulled his hair. Why, why? Why was he feeling this? Why was he doing this? All he had to do was just reach over and grab the knife! It was so simple! All he had to do was pick it up, hold it in his hand! Why, why!?

It was because he knew.

He knew.

He knew he couldn't do it.

"What's wrong, Mariku?" Ryou's voice drifted through his conscious, pulling and tugging at the feeling of terror. He was dragging him down into insanity with him. "What's wrong? Just pick up._Just reach over and take it. Use your arm and pick it up with your left hand._" He was so cruel.

Mariku's lip trembled and his eyes grew large, starting to hyperventilate. What was wrong? _Just pick it up. Just reach over and take it. Use your arm and pick it up with your left hand._Left. Left. His left hand his-

"-and use it if you have it." Ryou continued speaking through his pain, his terror, his absolute raw terror and fear, and once he dragged him to the cliff, the pivoting point between acceptance and denial, Mariku broke.

"I CAN'T! I CAN'T!" He snapped his head up and looked Ryou dead in the eyes, his own wide and filled with terror. "I CAN'T DO IT! I CAN'T DO IT! WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!? WHERE'S MY ARM!? WHERE'S MY ARM! WHAT DID YOU DO, WHAT DID YOU DO, WHAT DID YOU DO WHERE'S MY ARM!? WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME! GET ME OUT OF HERE, I CAN'T, I CAN'T-!" Tears spilled of out his eyes and down his face. Mariku was desperate to get away as he trashed back and forth, tugging and pulling and trying to wrench his arm down so that he could escape from his hellish nightmare. Amputation. Amputation. His arm was _gone_. He could feel it, he could imagine it there, but the signals his brain sent to it to move over and pick up the knife were not received, because the nerve endings _weren't there._ Thrown into a fit of hysteria, Mariku screamed as loud as he could, crying, sobbing for his arm and what had happened to him. It was easy to pretend that nothing had happened to him physically before. But now that Ryou had pretended to untie him and he actually tried moving his arm, Mariku knew; there had been nothing for Ryou to untie.

He could hear Ryou laughing. He could hear his cruel sadistic laugh as he reveled in his pain and terror. This had all been his fault, everything was because of him. Ryou didn't lie. Ryou didn't lie. Ryou didn't lie. Ryou didn't lie. Mariku had never cried before. But now he cried for his terror and cried for his freedom and everything that had been destroyed now that Ryou had told the truth. He would never take over the world. He would never live the life he wanted. Mariku would never be free. Mariku would always be a slave. His arm was his collar, and Ryou was the master.

"Oh Mariku, Mariku! You were the one who put yourself into this position!" He continued to laugh as Mariku sobbed, shaking his head back and forth in denial.

"NO, NO! IT'S NOT REAL, IT CAN'T BE REAL!" He wanted to be sick, to rid himself of all the horrible terror, the mind numbing terror.

"Not real, Mariku?" Ryou was so cruel as he pressed his hands flat against his body and groped him in his moment of hysteria. "Not real? Would you like to see?"

"NO, NO, PLEASE DEAR GOD STOP IT! GIVE ME MY ARM BACK! PLEASE! _PLEASE,_ WHAT HAVE YOU _DONE TO__ME!_" It felt like he was going insane… He- couldn't deal- with this. No, no, no no no no no no no! No, it couldn't be real it couldn't- Why- what no no no no no! His arm his arm!? Where was his arm! Why why, no, no! O-Oh god oh god oh god-

His laughs continued as he hopped off the bed and started untying his wrist from the bedpost. "No? Oh, keep begging Mariku, please. Say it over and over. Beg me, come on. Break down into terror and throw everything away for me. Strip away all of your dignity and cry, keep crying. But even if you plead with me to save you, I never will. You're my slave, and I'll do with you as I wish."

He could feel him unwinding the rope from his wrist, and Mariku jerked away in terror from his touch, screaming at him, _begging_ him to save him, to help him, demanding answers, anything he could to lessen the turmoil in his mind. But the louder he screamed, the harder he sobbed, and the more he begged, the terror only grew. Because Mariku wasn't meant to do any of those things. They were unnatural to him.

"NO, PLEASE, PLEASE, RYOU, PLEASE! NO! NO NO NO NO NO NONONONONO!" His words slurred together as his wrist came free and he slumped down against the bed, cowering away instantly. But his wrist was still tied to the rope, and Ryou held it, pulling him towards him which jerked the rope against his skin, making his skin chafe and bleed.

Ryou looked completely satisfied as he finally caught Mariku by his remaining arm and pulled him too him, wrapping the rope around his neck and making a knot that held him to him, almost like a leash so that he could not escape. "'Please, Ryou?' _Please_? What makes you think just because you beg me that I'll let you go? I begged the world, Mariku! I pleaded, I got on my knees to pray and still nothing happened! And the same will happen to you! I'll show you the truth of what I've done."

Mariku felt Ryou's arms around him, pulling him off the bed and lifting him to his feet when he tried to crumple to the ground. He was desperate to get away as Ryou pulled him close to him, support his shaky legs. He couldn't be near him he didn't want to be near him he couldn't he couldn't he was going to hurt him no! No no no don't let him do that, Mariku! Don't let him hurt us! Save me, Mariku, save me! Kill him, kill him! No, don't let him drag us to the mirror! NO, MARIKU! SAVE ME, SAVE ME! DON'T MAKE ME SEE! PLEASE MARIKU SAVE US!

Mariku's tears stopped. Mariku's screams stopped. The begs, the pleads, the hysteria stopped, if only outwardly.

"You see, Mariku…" Ryou was so calm, and his voice was so sweet. His appearance disguised his real personality, and it had taken Mariku much too long to realize this, "This is what has made you beautiful. This is what has started your Enlightment, and the inevitable erosion of your mind. It's already begun, dear Mariku. I've already seen some of the wonderful sounds and words that can come out of your mouth when you know that you're hopeless, pathetic. This is what it all starts with, and this is what has made you beautiful. Look at it, and love it. Accept it, Mariku. This is you."

Standing in front of a full length mirror, Ryou supported him as they looked at their reflection, both watching as Ryou stroked the bottom his arm. And it really was gone. It was gone. It was not there. There was only a bandaged covered stump. And it wasn't what was there that terrified him, it was the lack of. _His arm wasn't there_. It wasn't there, it just wasn't there. This was real. In dreams, you could not feel. But Mariku could feel this. He could feel as Ryou stroked his amputated disgusting _stump_ of an arm, and he could feel his arm as if it was still there. But it wasn't. It was gone. And with the silence, Mariku could faintly hear the people's voices drift through the closed windows to his ears.

"_He's going to kill us. Save us, save us. Don't let him do this to us! Somebody save us! Let us out of this house, this prison! We don't want to die!_"

Ryou's face was perfectly calm, and they watched each other in the mirror. Mariku couldn't hold back the silent tears that dripped out of his eyes and made little 'splat' sounds against the hardwood floor. _He had deformed him. Mariku was mutilated. He could never rule the world as an amputee. It was over. Everything was over. Over._

_OVER._

_Over._

…_Over._

… … _-Over…_

"Ryou…" Mariku's words were quiet as he spoke, his lips barely moving.

"Yes, Mariku?" Ryou's ever insane smile was plastered across his face as he kissed his cheek and groped his arm. Disgusting.

"Ryou… Please save me."

"How can I save you, Mariku? I'm not the hero.

_I'm the villain._"

And Mariku knew that he would be hearing his laughter for a long, long time.

* * *

**Reviews are appreciated**


	6. Part o6

_I want to destroy… All light… All order… And all life besides my own!_

_I want to destroy everything!_

_Destruction is my only pleasure! Destruction gives birth to my world!_

_The Dark World!_

_And when I do… everything will be mine, as I've always deserved…_

_And then… I'll finally have something to call my own…_

* * *

His vision seemed dull, but sharp. It contrasted from being monotone to being sharp and piercing. The shadows on the walls cast grey value across the white room, a changeless space of only simple conformity. But the dimensions seemed warped as Mariku stared with wide as eyes at the changing wall before him.

Or maybe, it was simply him going insane. Complete insanity, his already shaky footing on sanity starting to crumble out from underneath him. The room was as warped as he was. It was calm and then changed to completely terrifying only on a simple whim. The whiteness of it all was what caused it. The whiteness reminded him too much of the operation room. What he saw and what was actuality was hard to distinguish. Were the walls really caving in and the shadows really morphing into swirling pits as he saw? Or was it only in his mind…? Only an illusion…

Just a terror induced hallucination. Yes, that was it. There wasn't anything wrong with him…

Mariku wanted to cry.

Hunched over and his remaining arm bound to his side with chains that Ryou had secured so meticulously around him, Mariku was pathetic. It was a breaking point in his life, turmoil and trauma that he could not deal with as his eyes darted around the room and he hyperventilated. His body was dealing well with the post shock of surgery, Ryou had said, but he figured it wasn't the same with his mind. Something inside of him seemed to be shaken to the core, a harsh awakening to reality, and one that he could not deal with. It was like he suddenly realized a fundamental fact of the world, one that he had ignored his entire 'life', and its truths were enough to eat away at his psyche.

He shook physically, trembling and shuddering. Mariku felt like he was going to be sick. And the more that he felt terrified, the more his terror heightened. Mariku wasn't _meant_ to feel terror. It was something that wasn't programmed into him when he had been created for the world. It overloaded his system and his mind, a critical error that needed to be quarantined as soon as possible. But there was nothing to help him, no magical panacea to cure his physical and mental pain as he suffered silently in the hellish white room.

Nothing comforted him. There was nothing there to ease his pain. Ryou had allowed him an open window, the same window that the voices drifted through, but they were quiet now, and held no sort of attention to be taken from the terror of his amputated arm. He had given him a radio as well, a small one, but it played the same soft, quiet songs over and over. And when the break for commercials should have been and the radio host should have began talking, the microphone had been left on at the radio station, and all Mariku could hear were terrified screams and the sound of a saw in the background slicing through something that splattered onto the ground. A slaughterhouse. Ryou's world… His world… Mariku almost regretted anything he could have ever said.

The soft lonely tune of a cello solo drifted through the room as Mariku sat upon the bed. It played to the tempo of his increasingly erratic heart beat as he gave in to terror. A cold sweat on his forehead, the want to throw up increased every second that the treble held within the air, and every second he could feel the lack of tissue and bone and nerves and- _his arm._ Gone, gone, _gone._ And Mariku didn't dare to look. Because looking meant to see and to realize and to _accept._ Mariku wouldn't accept the cause of his terror, because that would make it all too real.

His mind swam and ached, hurting, hurting so bad. Could he die? Should he wish to die? Was there a reason worth living anymore with his life so crippled and mutilated? Was there ever a reason for him to live for? Or maybe… the question wasn't 'what did he have to live for,' but to find the answer out. He had to live to find his reason to live. And that was the only thing that kept Mariku Ishtar from not biting his tongue and choking to death on his own blood.

But the internal instinct to live still did not lessen his fear, and he felt as though he was getting to the breaking point. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't just sit and wait as he began to go insane. Something was going to happen if his attention wasn't taken off of his terror, and soon. Starting to shake again as his mind drifted to the hell of what had happened, Mariku's breaths came in shorter, and didn't leave only until after a long while. His eyes wide, he felt himself choking as his mind flitted across facts and feelings.

_His arm, his arm. His arm had been cut off. He was going to die. He would never live again. He could never live his life. His life was meaningless. He was going to die. He was going to die. He would never have anything of his own. He was going to die. His life had been taken from him at birth and given to Malik along with his name. He was going to die. And now his arm. His arm was gone and gone GONE GONE GONE GONE GGONE E GO-NE NNNF G ONEW WJGONEW AND HE- DD DIE DIE ALONE AS AF- DIE DEATH GONE HIS ARM AND HAAA-_

"Mariku."

Mariku gasped sharply, his mind still in the place where it had begun to slip. He looked around wildly, not really seeing as he continued to hyperventilate, his thoughts slurring and becoming unrecognizable other from the raw terror. Jerking forward, his conscious mind was still hazy as he tried to figure out where the voice had come from, seeing but not really understanding. He was hysterical and his state of mind showed it. Getting to the point where he felt as if it was truly the bordering point of sanity and insanity, he froze when he felt something lift his chin up.

Continuing to hyperventilate, his eyes were unfocussed from his physical and mental trauma, still confused and terrified, but leaning into the touch just a bit. Touch brought him back to the real world and away from the dangerous pit of insanity. And Mariku knew that if he ever gave in and jumped into the bottomless pit, he would never be able to go back. His terrified and meaningless sounds started to turn to pathetic whimpers as the finger left his chin. Hands replaced it, though, and soft palms held him on either side of his head. Mariku squeezed his eyes shut, still not able to see well, but knowing from a basic foundation who it was.

"I shouldn't have left you alone like this, should I? I should have known that the stress would be too much for you to take."

The feeling of wanting to cry returned as Mariku leaned into him farther. He wanted to cry from the fear of fear, he wanted to cry from his downright disgustingly pathetic behavior, and he wanted to cry as he accepted comfort from the bringer of his insanity. But Mariku would give anything to step away from the cliff that led to insanity, and Ryou was his supporter as he dragged him away by touching him and bringing him back to reality.

And Mariku felt the distinct feeling of wanting to be human. He wanted to be human and to be comforted in his time of ultimate agony, even if by the literal hands of his tormentor. Mariku was tired of sadism. And now that he knew he would never have it back, he needed something to replace it. Quieting himself a bit as he continued to whimper from the post terror, he opened his eyes just a bit to see Ryou looking down at him. Just the sight of his face was borderline between the only comfort Mariku had, to the physical embodiment of horror.

"Sh, it's okay. Everything will… be all right. I'm here now."

It was so easy to believe his words as his fingers pet him and he kissed him softly. He leaned into it, wanting his touch and his kindness, pressing up against him as much as he could from his sitting position. Mariku could feel Ryou smile just a bit as he did this. Ryou's arm moved to hold him around his waist as he kissed him. Holding him close, Ryou drew away eventually, and Mariku sighed, staring dully at the wall as he leaned his head onto his shoulder. What he had been already reduced to…

As his breathing resumed normality and his heart beat slowed, he closed his eyes when he heard the click of the door shutting, and the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. Ryou seemed to hear this too, and stopped stroking his back as he had been doing before to look behind him. There was someone else in the room, but Mariku either didn't care or didn't want to take the effort to look and see, settling on a combination of the two. He was so tired…

When Ryou turned back to him, his touches stopped and his arm slowly unwound. Mariku panicked slightly. He couldn't be left alone again! He would go insane! Unable to hold Ryou back, he moaned and leaned harder onto him, hoping that it would get him to stay. But Ryou pulled away and pushed him back. His face was no longer compassionate, just a blank expression coupled with the smallest of smirks. Looking up at him and feeling rejected, Mariku jerked to the right and hissed when the bottom of his amputated arm brushed against the blankets. The feelings themselves were foreign enough to be terrifying alone.

Sitting down on the corner of his bed, Ryou frowned. "Don't touch it, Mariku. Try not to irritate it. The skin is still healing, and I'd rather not do a skin transplant and put you through surgery again so soon after the amputation." He reached out to touch the side of his face making Mariku flinch . Ryou smiled softly at this, and moved his hand so that he couldn't pull away. He stroked the side of his face softly as Mariku looked warily back at him. "But you're doing well, much better then I thought you'd be. Physically, anyway. The mental trauma comes later, but I see that it's already started to begin." He paused and his hand did as well before resuming shortly after. "At those points- well, I won't say that. I won't spoil anything for you."

It was quiet, then, and nothing else was said. Ryou continued to pet him, and Mariku's unease grew. He began to leave behind his turmoil, trying to resume to his original state of mind and personality: wary, cautious, and above all else, the need to save himself and to not show his fear and vulnerability. Closing his eyes, he opened his lips and sighed, leaning just a bit into Ryou's touches. He ignored the clawing coldness of fear in his stomach as his arm throbbed. There was a rustling to his right, and Mariku had forgotten about the other person in the room. Opening his eyes, he tried to move his head to the right, but Ryou grabbed his chin sharply.

"No." He said it harshly and with purpose, and Mariku knew that he could not disobey him without some sort of punishment. Although that only made him want to look more. Trying to turn his head again to see why Ryou didn't want to look at the person so badly, Ryou jerked him back again, digging his nails into his chin. Mariku did not wince or show the pain. "Not yet. You can look later."

Frowning, Mariku's nervousness grew. Why was it that he was not permitted to look at them…? …Permitted… Mariku was already becoming as menial as a slave. Permitted? Nobody permitted Mariku anything. He did as he wished and without any second thoughts. Or at least… he had… There was no point in it now.

Ryou looked like he was thinking something over before he smiled just a bit. "Or now, I suppose. But first, I have things to show you and things to discuss with you." His hand dropped away from holding his face towards him.

Looking somewhat smug, Ryou turned away and stood up, looking over his shoulder slightly to make sure that Mariku would not look at the other person before turning around. Mariku made an unhappy noise at the back of his throat. He had to act as in control and as normal as possible. And normal meant that he could not give in to insanity or the horrors of his amputated arm. If he didn't think about it, it didn't exist…

Mariku stared out the open window, watching dully as the curtains fluttered with the slight breeze, and not remembering when the radio had been turned off, since everything was silent. Leaning over just a bit, Mariku stared at the house with people in it, confused that there were no screams or sobs, and that no lights illuminated their windows. Maybe they had finally been killed then… Brought away from his pessimistic thoughts, Mariku's eyes watched a bit uninterestedly when a cart was pushed in front of his bed. However, his eyes instantly widened when he saw who exactly was pushing it.

It was… that boy. The one at Battle City. What was his name…? What was his name…? _…Otogi_ was here. The boy with the black hair and the red jacket, the pretty one. But he looked so much different now as he walked with his head bowed and his posture a bit slumped, following behind Ryou, pushing a silver cart. He stopped when Ryou told him to, and backed away just a bit, waiting for his next order, his head still lowered. His appearance had changed as well. From his usual dress, he now wore only a simple pair of pants, his chest bare, and his hair was cut apart from a couple bangs that allowed him to hide his eyes.

Mariku ignored Ryou as he began to talk, his interest solely in Otogi. He stared at him, wondering how in gods name he had let himself become something so subservient. Because although he had never truly known him or interacted with him, he knew that he would not bow to anyone so easily. Or so quickly. What had happened to him? And if _he_ was here… Were there others? He wanted to talk to that boy. Did he remember him?

Opening his mouth to say something, he was taken aback by a sharp slap. Stunned, Mariku was not scared, only furious as he growled at Ryou, unable to rub his throbbing cheek due to his… remaining arm still being bound to his side. That kind of physical pain he could deal with. Although, the pure fact that Ryou could slap him was degrading. It made him feel like such a pathetic animal…

"Mariku. You're to listen to me when I speak to you, or you will be punished accordingly." Ryou's tone was cold, and Mariku wavered on whether or not he should continue to be angry and resist, or to obey and to listen. He settled in the middle, and growled, but kept his attention on Ryou, forgetting all about Otogi.

"Anyway, I said that I supposed that it was time that I proved my power to you, since you still don't seem to fully understand that I am now Conqueror over the world." Ryou was pacing a bit, small steps back and forth while he would look over periodically and small at him, the kind of smile he gave when he injected his arm with the drug before he amputated him. "So to do this, I thought it would be most appropriate to show the sources of my power. Look, Mariku. The sennen items are _mine._"

And they were as Ryou motioned for Otogi to push the cart into his view. Craning his neck, Mariku felt sick as he saw all seven of them laid out before him. The Puzzle, the Eye, the Tauk, the Key, The Scale, his Rod… but one was missing, and he looked up at Ryou, both horrified and questioningly. Laughing softly at his fear and inquisition, Ryou's eyes were narrowed as he smiled and reached down the neck of his shirt, pulling the Ring up to dangle in front of his eyes. Light reflected off it, mocking him as he did so.

"Their power is mine, and there is no true reason for me to keep them anymore other then decorational value. Zorc has been resurrected and the world has fallen before me. I keep the Ring purely for sentimental purposes." He continued to dangle it in front of him, Mariku's eyes following it with every swing, just like a pendulum, and just like he had done to him with the rod earlier.

"I…" Mariku's voice wasn't working well, his mouth dry. Hadn't he tried to resume his strong façade? "I… don't know what that proves. I don't know why… you would want all the items. I… don't understand what Zorc is, or how this is supposed to prove your power." He remembered faintly when Malik had been in control, of Bakura telling him that he planned on obtaining the items, and when he did so, the embodiment of darkness would return. Was that what he had done…?

Ryou made a slight 'tsk' sound, dropping the necklace back onto his chest, and the spikes made a ringing sound as they clinked together. Walking over and waving Otogi aside, Ryou ran his hands over the items, looking down at them fondly. He looked back up with cruel eyes. "You don't know what it means? It means that I now have all of their power. It means that I set them into the stone and that Zorc, the lord of Darkness, has been resurrected. It means that no one can challenge my power, and the door to the afterlife is mine."

He had trouble understanding, and didn't want to understand. It was easy to ignore that Ryou had done as he had spoken earlier, because he had no supporting proof. But now he did. With the sennen items all laid out before him, there was no way that Ryou could lie. But there was still one thing that was left to ask before Mariku could truly despair.

"Where's Zorc?"

"I'm here."

A foreign voice answered, and Mariku did not recognize it. It was the voice of the person who had entered the room. Footsteps, and then Mariku saw him as he stood next to Ryou, a grin on his face. They wrapped an arm around Ryou's waist, and stared down at him with an arrogant look, smiling to match his tormentor's own. Mariku only stared up at him with hateful eyes, trying in any way to shove away the returning fear in his mind.

"I wouldn't get rid of him so easily." Ryou continued to talk, moving one hand to hold the one that the man held around his waist. "Even when the sennen items were created, the power could be split or shared. And I'm not so power hungry that I would ignore the person who helped me gain the items in the first place. Bakura and I will always be partners, and he's my right-hand man at the throne."

"…Bakura?" Mariku was disbelieving as he looked up at the person standing next to Ryou, and it was hard to believe that it was Bakura. It didn't look like him at all. But Bakura had used Ryou's body as a vessel, so of course that wouldn't be what he really looked like… Still, the dark skinned, light haired man was hard to imagine as Bakura.

"Turns out I'm the real winner, Mariku." His voice had changed as well, and the body was no doubtably his original as he spoke down at him, still with an arrogant look on his face as he had had in their Shadow Game. "You might have beaten me at Duel Monsters, but I'm the one that's won in the end."

"But how are you-"

"Zorc? I harbored Zorc within me and the Ring originally. A part of Zorc's power has been transferred to Ryou, as well, but I still hold the majority. I told you I wasn't lying when I said I was the Darkness, and you were a fool to brush me off that easily." And he added as an after thought: "And besides, now that I've had my revenge, I don't really care that much for world domination. That all is Ryou's fantasies."

The idea of their shared power was hard to understand. When had it ever been heard of the 'bad guys' sharing power? They were always power hungry, how could they be able to share it with each other? How had he gotten his body back? How had this happened? Was everything that Ryou had said truly real? Something had to be corrupted. Something, anything… Mariku turned his head away in disgust as Bakura kissed Ryou, both smiling. This was so… sick.

They kissed for a while, making small little hungry sounds, before he heard them part, and Ryou looked back to him. "Because it takes understanding for us to share power. We couldn't have obtained the power without the help of each other, and there's an understanding between us that allows us to not be corrupted. After all, we shared the same body for three years. We understand each other better then anyone else ever will. I'm happy to be in leagues with him."

"How-?"

Ryou laughed sharply, leaning down so that his hands supported him on the bed. "Read your mind? I told you, Mariku. The item's powers are mine. I can see everything. Thing. You. Think." Reaching out his hand, Ryou tapped his forehead, and Mariku flinched away, a somewhat horrified expression on his face. "But don't worry. I won't do it often. You see, I like things to be fun, like a game. And it doesn't take much strategy to cheat and see what you're thinking, when it'd be so much more fun to pick away at your mind without the help of the sennen items."

Ryou's fingers stayed on his forehead, drifting down to touch his face again as Ryou leaned in to kiss him. Mariku tried jerking away, to reject him, not wanting any of his sick and twisted attention any longer. But the now somewhat familiar feeling of his muscles locking up as the rod's power took hold of him, Mariku was perfectly helpless other then to sit back as Ryou kissed him. His tongue traveled over his lips, tracing the dip where they met, and licking the corners of his mouth. It was disgusting, and it scared him. He still did not understand why he wanted to kiss him so badly.

His dominance over him was unshakable as he leaned a knee onto the bed and shoved him back. Ryou crawled over him and sat on his middle, rubbing his hips against him just a bit as he kissed him with an open mouth. He moved against him hungrily, fisting his hands into his hair as he shoved his tongue into his mouth. Humiliated, Mariku squeezed his eyes shut and was forced to endure it as Ryou kissed him harder so that it hurt just a bit. His tongue was disgusting as it moved in his mouth, pushing against his own and rubbing over it, his hips doing the same in a lewd manner. Wanting to push him away, Mariku could do no such thing as Ryou continued to use the Rod's power on him. It mocked him to the core of his existence.

Breaking away with a soft pant, Ryou looked put off as he brushed Bakura's hand off of his shoulder, and his hold on him relinquished. Mariku gasped, the feeling of cold water being dumped over him familiar to the first time that Ryou used the Rod on him. He looked over to Bakura, and saw the bit of warning he gave Ryou. Ryou looked back at him, and he could tell faintly that they were conversing through their mind link, and he wondered if they still had one now that Bakura had been split from Ryou's body. Turning back to him, Ryou picked up something from the cart that he had missed seeing.

"Now that you're starting to understand, Mariku, this is when it really starts. Understand that it's useless to resist me, that there's no one here to save you. If I want you as my slave, I'll have you. And what I want, Mariku, is for you to wear a collar like the pet of mine that you are." And he held it before him. A red collar with gold metal.

The idea was ridiculous, completely absurd that Mariku would wear it willingly, one of the most degrading things that he could imagine. And it terrified him that if Mariku rejected it, Ryou would still force him to wear it. Ryou had said that his amputated arm was what bound him to him. But a collar was only that much more humiliating and that much more degrading. A dog wore a collar. Mariku was not a dog. He was not a slave…

Making a move to scream his reply at him, to outright _refuse_, to get it through his head that _HE WAS MARIKU ISHTAR,_ the screams that he heard then were not the ones that came from his own mouth.

"Dammit, don't do it! Don't take it! He's going to kill you, Mariku! You can't die! You're the only one who can save us! You're the only one who has-"

"Shut up!" Bakura made a move to punch Otogi, either from talking out of line, or for the words he had spoken as he lunged towards the items. But he stopped as soon as Otogi collapsed to the ground. He shrieked, giving ear-piercing screams as he writhed on the ground. Mariku stared in horror down at him as he continued to twitched and scream.

It happened alk very suddenly, from his yelling to when he collapsed and writhed on the ground. At first, Mariku did not know what caused his sudden and clearly intense pain, until he saw Otogi groveling at Ryou's feet, and clutching onto his pant leg, begging for forgiveness. Tears leaked out of his eyes from the pain that Mariku could not understand, and he clawed at Ryou's leg. Looking up horrified at Ryou, he was unsurprised as he saw the Wadjet Eye upon his forehead, his sadistic smile upon his face as he kicked Otogi away.

Otogi continued to writhe and scream, sobbing from agony, until Ryou ordered Bakura to take him away. Bakura frowned, and scowled at the noise, kicking him in the side. Otogi hardly even flinched. Picking him up by the arms, Bakura dragged him away and out the door, Mariku listening as the sounds that continued down the hallway. Looking back at Ryou horrified when the door closed, he gulped as Ryou smiled at him.

"You'll learn soon that the agony that you're going through mentally can't even begin to shake the ones that you'll feel physically. He spoke out of line, and was rude of it. He was given his punishment as was fit." Mariku exhaled sharply as Ryou rubbed his thigh. The torture that Otogi had been going through was so much more of a punishment then what he deserved… Looking back up at him, he saw the Wadjet Eye flicker and die, wondering what that meant. Had he ended the torment, or… had he killed him?

Continuing to stroke his thigh, Ryou leaned back into him, and Mariku whimpered, not having time to be disgusted with himself as his mind was taken up by fear of having Ryou close to him. With his young and soft face, it was so easy to forget that he had a sadistic side… that was, until it resurfaced again. He really was an amazing actor.

"Oh, don't be scared now, Mariku. I won't hurt you as long as you obey. …Now, anyway. All I want you to do is wear the collar, and I won't hurt you. You refuse me, though, and you'll feel pain much worse than what Ryuugi felt." He smiled and held up the collar again before him. "Don't fidget with it. Don't dare to try and take it off. This is nothing compared to the humiliation and degradation I'll put you through later. I don't expect you to be my willing pet, and that is what is going to make this fun."

He smiled at him one last time before leaning in and brushing the hair off from the back of his neck. Lifting his hair up, he wrapped his arms around him and began to buckle the collar onto his neck. Mariku coughed sharply, humiliated as he felt the material around his neck. It was restricting and heavy. It felt foreign. Pulling the end through the last loop and letting go, Ryou sat back, content when he looked at him. Mariku's face burned and his pride was shot as he realized what he had been reduced to.

"You're really starting to look like my pet, Mariku." Ryou seemed happy as he ran his hand down his left arm, Mariku moving it away only as far as he could before Ryou's palm made contact with the underside of the stump. He froze suddenly, choking up and dry sobbing as Ryou touched and rubbed his arm. It was horrible molestation. "But _this_ collar is what I will always love looking at the most. It's so beautiful…" He lowered his eyes, not looking up at him as he leaned so that his face was centimeters from his arm. He pushed his leg between Mariku's as he made small kisses down his arm, too short to even be called that, until he met the bottom of the stump. Mariku's gut churned in horror as Ryou kissed him for real there, his lips making disgusting sensations on where his arm used to be. Even through the bandages surrounding it, Mariku could _feel_ his lips on his healing arm. The tears that he had tried to hold back started to come to his eyes, and Mariku choked back to try and keep them at bay, trying not to humiliate himself even farther as Ryou kissed at his amputated arm.

"Ryou." Bakura's new voice drifted through the room, and Ryou paused, kissing his arm one last time before sitting back up and looking behind him. Mariku sighed with a shudder. "Don't you think we should go now?"

Ryou made a sort of humming noise, absentmindedly reaching out and playing with his skin on his neck where it met the collar. "I suppose." Turning back to him, Ryou smiled at his despondent and fearful expression. "Come on, Mariku. I told you that this house was only temporary. Tonight, we're moving to our more permanent residence." Ryou shifted and moved off the bed, standing up and reaching out a hand for him.

It was meant to mock him, the hand he offered, because Mariku had none to give in return, and he one he had left was chained to his side. The offered hand showed how much Ryou had already hurt him, and how much the dominance he already had over him. But instead of making him angry like he was so prone to doing, it was one last thing to add to his horror, and Mariku sobbed suddenly. Maybe it was the reaction Ryou had wanted for when he held out his hand. Because he merely smiled as Mariku cried for the second time in his life. Ryou jerked up on his collar and making him choke, clicking a leash around the loop. It was humiliating, but Mariku could do nothing to stop it, and Mariku was starting to understand. He could do nothing to stop it as Ryou yanked down on the leash, choking him again, to kiss him one last time. His tears were hot as they dripped down his cheeks.

Breaking away and wiping the tears off of his cheek from the short contact, Ryou smiled and pulled him out the door as Bakura held it open for him. He saw the hallway for the first time, his tears starting to leave only choked sobs behind. They were a light shade of green, and were bare apart from a couple of mirrors lining the wall. Mariku refused to look at his reflection when he was facing it from the left side. There was an elevator ahead of them, and as Ryou pressed the down button, it took no time to come up. Ryou tugged him alone, waiting briefly for Bakura before the doors slid shut. As the elevator went down, the numbers dinged with each floor that was passed, and Mariku realized that the place they had been in was a hotel. Again feeling suddenly tired, Mariku sighed when Ryou jerked on the leash to make him follow him out when the doors opened.

They stepped out into the lobby. It was beautiful, really, with tiled floors and a huge ceiling, an ornate chandelier hanging from above. But Mariku saw none of this. The only thing that his eyes saw was the pile of bodies in the very center. They all wore the same uniform, and he recognized them as what must have been the hotel staff. But that was the only thing recognizable throughout the entire pile of bodies. The white uniforms were soaked in blood, many of them decapitated, and the rest that weren't, their faces had been hacked up so much that no facial features could be distinguished. All had missing limbs, whether it be arms or legs, and the appendages that had been cut off resided in the corner, thrown together in a grotesque pile of mutilation.

'_And if the amputation goes well, Mariku, you won't be the last.'_

Thrown without care on top of one another, they created a pyramid as blood soaked out from underneath from what was left of their bodies. And only one of them moved. It was at the very bottom, both of its legs and one of its arm hacked off messily. It pulled itself out, grotesque, morbid, pulling itself with one arm, dragging its torso as blood trailed on the floor behind it. Its face had been mutilated so bad that Mariku could hardly tell the gender at all. But the chest was bare, and he recognized the black hair.

"S-save us-" Gurgling one last time, Mariku could barely make out Otogi's words before he collapsed and died before him.

There was no way to describe how he felt, no words adequate to explain the unadulterated and pure horror at the sight, and Mariku only stood still and unmoving. He had thought before that he had wanted to kill off every other living being besides his own. He had thought of himself as a sadist. But… Ryou now had his perfect world. And what he had thought would have been perfect, was now more terrifying then even of the thought of his amputated arm.

He saw Bakura walk over to Otogi's dead and mutilated body, kicking him once, before speaking to Ryou. "Sorry, I thought I had killed him. So much for that."

There was a tug on his leash as Ryou jerked him forward to keep walking. But Mariku could not let himself walk willingly to his fate where he knew that he might be killed just the same as Otogi. And so looking down at was once Otogi one last time, Mariku fainted.

* * *

**It's incredibly out of character for Mariku to feel terror or sadness, et cetera. Mariku would never cry. Based on this, it really shows what hell he's going through **_**for **_**him to cry. I mean, shit. He's had his freedom stripped from him, his arm cut off, and everything else all at once. It's too overwhelming for him, and since he's never dealt with vulnerable feelings before, he has to cope some way. And sometimes, anger doesn't always work. Hope that makes it easier to understand his situation and how he would be able to cry.**


	7. Part o7

The vibrations of the car were dull to Mariku. He would flit in and out of consciousness, not remembering ever getting into a car. Oh, he had fainted… That was why… Ryou must have had to carry him to the car. Mariku worried subconsciously if he had made him mad because of it. A mad Ryou was the last thing he wanted, especially after seeing-

Mariku could feel cool wind against his face, probably the air conditioner. The ride of the car was smooth, but every so often it would hit a slight bump and Mariku would feel sick. His body felt a bit cramped, and his forehead was hot. Mariku had never actually been in a car before. It was starting to make him feel sick. And he was scared. He was scared of being in it when he was so vulnerable, and he was downright petrified of… the knowledge of the events leading up to the trip.

In the periods that his consciousness would let up just a little and he could feel the world, Mariku was always terrified. His mind was hazy and he wouldn't at first remember that the vibrations were from the car, and not from… something that could hurt him, like- Mariku could fill in the blank with many answers. The fear would make him sick and he would then begin to quicken his breath and struggle to try to get himself away from everything. He would grow hysterical through the mute that hazed over his mind, wanting to get away, away, away…! And then a hand would rest on his head.

Their skin was soft, and Mariku would instantly know it to be Ryou. He would set his hand on the side of his head and pull him to him. Ryou would force Mariku to lie his head onto his shoulder, and he would keep him close. Mariku's hysteria would always lessen. Ryou was such a contrasting point in his life… The one thing that had single handedly destroyed him, and the only thing that had ever given him any sort of… affection. Malik hated him, his creator… His sister, his brother, all despised him; Mariku never had a mother, either. She would have hated him as well… But Ryou held him, and Ryou kissed him. And since he longed for comfort so much after the terror he had been put through, his affection was ten times greater then it would have been and should have been.

He could feel Ryou's shirt against his cheek, and his hair against his face. Mariku leaned all the way on him as Ryou held him and lessened his moments of hysteria. He would make small noises in the back of his throat, starting to retreat back to unconsciousness, and Mariku could feel another person sitting next to him who was not Ryou, and who was not as comforting and much more prominent, reach out to hold his hand. Their hands were different from Ryou's. While Ryou's were smaller and softer, theirs were larger and harder as they ran their fingers along his palm. Mariku didn't understand why Bakura was touching him… So Mariku leaned farther onto Ryou, moving his face so that his mouth was near his neck and he could smell everything that Ryou was. Ryou smelled like vanilla…

Warm and temporarily relieved from terror, Mariku's conscious started to falter as Ryou stroked the side of his face. Nothing was horribly wrong then as he was held and comforted. Mariku didn't even face the fear when the underside of his amputated arm brushed against Ryou's side. At that point, everything was soft, and he felt no pain. Without anything to keep him staying on the bordering point of waking, Mariku let himself fall back to unconsciousness. If he could take refuge in the hands of his tormentor, he would. Anything to lessen the pain, after all.

* * *

Life for Mariku was broken up into periods of consciousness and rest. When he would wake and when he would sleep. Every day that he had lived was such a prominent point in his life that Mariku had started to categorize them as such. The first parts were made up of the one point in his life where he had been truly happy: the Battle City Finals. It was the only time where he had ever been able to fool himself into believing that everything from that point on would be okay. Mariku had been wrong and Mariku had suffered for his arrogance. The days following after that were categorized under Ryou's Hell.

It was when he had woken to the white operating room, the room that had dripping water and a bright fluorescent light. That was the first part of wakening, and it ended with Mariku letting his conscious slip, and fainting in the hobby of the hotel. All the points in between were somewhat hazy and hard to remember. He remembered pain, he remembered fear, and he remembered when Ryou had first shown him his amputated arm. It was at these points in time that he felt his sadism falter as he was shown cruelty he had never been able to posses. Ryou had already taught him so much.

And the rest fell only under Purgatory. It started with when he had woken with a no longer unnatural fear. He had sat straight up and screamed in terror, the nightmare of his life haunting him more then anything he could ever dream up as he recovered from the images in his sleep. He had seen… so many things… true hell, slaughter, fear, sickness… It was Ryou's world he had dreamed of. And Ryou had been there when he had come back to the world of feeling. Ryou was there with him in bed next to him, holding him and petting him and kissing him and telling him that nothing would ever be okay again.

"_But it's alright, because I'll be here with you. You'll never be alone again. I've given you a body, allowed you to live in the light just as you've always wanted. All I ask for in return is you."_

He always let Ryou hold him. He greedily clung to Ryou's touches. Ryou's touch was the supporting beam of his precariously balanced sanity. Without it, he would snap and crumble, the foundations of his structure no longer able to support the weight of his mind and all that came with it. And although the way he touched him terrified him, Mariku had grown used to terror. He adapted to his changing environment, and lived as such. The fear he felt when Ryou smoothed his palm against his bare chest was nothing compared to the fear he felt when he forced himself to realize and deal with the fact that he would never truly live again. The fear of his arm. Amputation, amputation. His disgusting excuse of the remainder of his arm was Mariku's greatest fear…

The new room that he had been forced into was much different from his old one. While the one earlier was white and comforting and small, this was large and dark. With dark beige walls and a cream colored carpet, two rooms were connected, one that held his bed and closet, and another that was more designed as a sitting room. The sitting room was lighter then his bedroom, with a small table and chairs, an ornate chandelier, and large windows lining the wall. There was a ledge where the beginning of the window started, and when Ryou left him for the first time at his new residence, the first thing he had done was force himself to walk to the window and stare outside.

He had been confused when he had opened the light yellow curtains. He had expected a red sky and burning masses of flesh and housing to litter the countryside. But there was none of that. Outside, the day was bright, and everything was green. There were so many plants, all tropical looking. Palm trees, elephant ears, everything lush and well kept on a perfect lawn. The property stretched almost as far as he could see, and Mariku let himself to be fooled into thinking that just maybe, he could escape. But just on the horizon line and to the limits of his sight, he saw a tall black gate, a fence, stretch high up into the air. Caged. Mariku was caged, and it was meant to keep him in. And so unable to deal with the stress of living with his new disgusting disability and the terror of what would happen to him, Mariku grabbed onto the curtains and cried.

Every day he was brought food and clothes by a maid who he did not know. She never spoke to him, and he cowered when she would enter his room. He would crane his neck to try and see beyond the door, but she would close it quickly, as if reading his mind. Glaring and growling like a cornered animal when she got too close to him, she would always set his food onto the table, and fold his clothes on his bed. Always studying him before she left, Mariku wondered why her eyes seemed so dull.

He was taken generally well care of in the short period of time that Purgatory stretched. Food, water, clothes… he had necessities. But he was left with only that, and nothing to do. His mind was a bit more stable, but not by much, and he would have brief periods of hysteria where he contemplated simply killing himself and not moving on. But Ryou would visit every day, and he would always pull him away from that brink. Mariku was always disgusted with himself at the way he would bend before him, terrified of being punished, and craving his affection. Ryou hadn't been sadistic since the hotel, and he would always just simply hold him. He acted as if he knew more then he did, acted as if he understood why Mariku held onto him. And he acted as if he knew it would be a brief thing. Almost unbearably kind, Ryou was most cruel when he left him once again alone.

With nothing to take his mind off of his arm (or, lack of…), Mariku resorted to staring outside. It was a seesaw of comfort and depression. It kept his interest away from fear, but at the same time, taunted him with the freedom he would never have again. His mind starting to get again to the breaking point as he would scream and pull his hair and shake his head back and forth at the turmoil in his brain, Purgatory stopped when he saw Bakura outside. Bakura with his now dark skin and light hair and scar, he opened the gate, and Mariku watched as many people were forced single file into their new residence. Their faces and heads covered, Mariku watched them in morbid wonderment as the gates closed and the trail of people ended. That had been the last day that Mariku would ever feel the lack of pain again.

The days following after were placed only under Complete Hell, and consisted of the rest of his life. His life grouped under rest and wake, Mariku didn't know if he could ever consider his life worthwhile ever again. There was no point to live a life that was not his own. But Mariku had no choice. What Ryou wanted, Ryou got. His collar and his arm were proof enough.

* * *

Mariku stared dully out the window, tracing small patterns into the cushion that he sat on. The sun was starting to set, and the usual bright green plants now had orange highlights and dark shadows on them. His breaths came in short and fast as he watched the plants' leaves rustle. Mariku's head and chest hurt from having just recovered from a break down. He had crouched down and put his head between his knees, and had used his remaining arm to pull his hair as hard as he could as his mind teetered on the edge of insanity. He had thought that maybe if he tried to tear his hair out, the torture in his mind would leave as well. But it hadn't worked, and the only thing he was left with after he had calmed, was an aching scalp.

Everything was so quiet, not even a tick of a clock to pierce through the silence. Ryou hadn't given him a clock. Or a radio. He wasn't sure if he was happy about that or not… The collar around his neck was restricting as well as it was demeaning as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes flicking down to where his hand now rested in his lap. Briefly, he wondered if he should try and take it off. Would Ryou know if he tried?

"He'd be mad." Mariku's lips moved on their own, and he was surprised to hear his own voice, although he didn't outwardly act startled. "He'd kill me. And I couldn't do anything to stop him."

It seemed that he learned quickly how pathetic he was, that Ryou had sincerely won. There was no point in anything. Ryou would always defeat him.

Mariku continued to stare down at his lap. The sun had turned his dark skin lighter with a yellow tint. His plain white shirt was now yellow as well from the light of the setting sun. Mariku paused, enraptured by how his skin had changed colors slightly; Mariku had never really seen a sunset. Very slowly, Mariku lifted his hand up, watching every movement that it made as he lifted it in front of the sun. He eclipsed the sun from his eyes as his hand blocked the light. He watched as the muscles in his arms moved, little shifts of tendons and tissue as his body moved to his command. The veins in his hand moved too as he flexed his fingers. He could see the tips of his fingers easier now, and they were translucent as the sunlight filtered through them where only flesh was. Everything he had taken for granted… Mariku had never really noticed how beautiful his body really was until it was… gone…

His body was the only thing he had left. It was the only thing that he had ever wanted. A body of his own. He had a body now, and he saw it for all it was worth. The human structure, the alignment of bones and tissue, blood, nerves… It was how he functioned, how everyone functioned. At the core, they were all the same. Just flesh and blood. His body was beautiful because it was his. He could call it his. His. But Mariku would always be incomplete. He was only one half of a soul, and no longer physically in tact. Ryou had taken the one thing he had truly ever wanted, needed… and marred it beyond repair…

Sighing, Mariku looked dejectedly to the side. He didn't… know what to think. He didn't know what the _correct_ thing to think was. Lowering his arm down from when he had raised it, Mariku gasped and choked when he accidentally brushed his amputated arm against his side. His eyes went wide in terror as he felt the irritated nerves act up and send little bouts of pain to his brain. In an automatic response, Mariku began to hyperventilate as he tried to move his left arm to the side a bit more. He could still move the stump, even with the rest of his arm missing. He kept it away from himself, not wanting anything to do with it. But from holding what was left of his arm in the same position all day, his muscles would periodically cramp, and he would have to force himself to move his arm next to his side. And then, he could _feel_ it.

He could feel the disgusting excuse for his arm next to his chest, resting against his shirt and sometimes his skin. At night he would let his muscles rest, and bring his arm closer to him, but still trying not to let his side touch it. Having taken to sleeping without a shirt, Mariku would wake up in terror if he felt the bandages of his stump scrape against his side. He knew that feeling by heart. It was the feeling that collected every horror that had ever happened him into one palpable touch. Because if he didn't touch it, it wasn't real. After all… Mariku could… still feel his arm as if it had never been amputated. And if he kept the stump away from his body, then his body was still complete. Mariku was a good liar. He had lied to himself that Malik had needed him and wanted him, had lied to himself that he would create his perfect world, and now, he could lie to himself that nothing had ever happened.

But he couldn't let his mind drift to his amputated arm. It was what caused his hysteria, after all. So to keep his mind away from horror, Mariku spoke nonsense to himself. Small little things that meant nothing other then to keep him occupied, but at the same time, held all of the fear that he felt.

"I don't."

"I never will."

"How?"

Continuing to stare out the window, Mariku watched as some of the last bits of light receded. The light cast long shadows on the ground and they looked a bit like fingers. Closing his eyes, Mariku comforted himself with the sound of his own voice, Malik's voice…

"There's something wrong with me…"

"I don't want to die."

"How long will it be?"

"Nothing, I'm here. You don't have to wait any longer."

Horror gripping at his chest, Mariku squeezed his eyes shut harder as he heard the soft open and shut of his door, and the lock that followed. And as always, he anticipated the inevitable want of Ryou's affection. But why was Ryou here? He never visited him in the evening.

"Why-"

"Because today marks something very important."

Starting to ask Ryou how he had known, Mariku stopped, remembering everything he had told him. The power of the senen Eye…

There were footsteps behind him, soft ones that no doubtably belonged to Ryou. He heard the sharp clink of something metal being set down, and the rustling of fabric. Inhaling sharply, Mariku tensed when he felt fingers run up his back. He opened his mouth slightly to breath, furrowing his eyebrows as he curved his back as he tried to escape, and yet, still feel his touch. Feeling Ryou's fingers reach the base of his neck, he instantly untensed and relaxed as he stroked the skin there, moving his hair aside. He felt Ryou's breath near his ear and his body next to his side before he heard him speak.

"You're doing very good, Mariku. I think… that I'd like to reward you."

Soft little kisses were placed near his ear and chin, Ryou's breath warm and somewhat ticklish against his skin. Mariku never resisted his kisses. They didn't hurt, and he never kissed him anywhere then what his clothes didn't cover. Ryou was always languid, in the way he talked and in how he moved, and so, Mariku didn't immediately rebel against him when he slipped his fingers underneath his collar and jerked him to him. He choked a little, reaching his hand up to try and pry the collar away from his neck, but stopped when he looked up at Ryou, who was now standing.

His face was cold, hard, serious, and something that Mariku knew he should not fight against. He had to obey… Mariku had already become so menial… And so he did, forcing his muscles and bones to work, even though they protested as he stood shakily up. He felt dizzy, and his knees shook a little, a blood rush going to his head. Ryou steadied him, and supported him by wrapping a hand around his waist. Pulling him along and supporting him the entire way, Ryou moved him to the small table. He pulled out a chair and let Mariku sit. His dizziness almost instantly going away, Mariku gulped air in when he felt Ryou's fingers leave his collar, letting it loosen. Feeling sick, Mariku closed his eyes.

The sound of a chair scraping against the ground, Mariku didn't open his eyes until he felt Ryou's fingers lift his chin up. Mariku looked at him warily as he gave his not-so-innocent smile.

"Have you given up already? You're acting so submissive. Are you still the Mariku that I remembered from Battle City?" Ryou mocked him. He was toying with him, playing with his mind and emotions. He'd done so much to him… ruined his life… And maybe Mariku was giving up. Without his sadism and hatred, Mariku had nothing left.

Not giving him a reply, Ryou hummed and closed his eyes. Tapping his fingers on the table, he shifted before opening his eyes again. Ryou's eyes were cold and sharp, and Mariku was taken aback from the sudden change in demeanor, even though the same smile still rested on his face.

"Do you know why I chose you, Mariku?"

"I…" Mariku paused, flicking his eyes away, having not expected the question directed at him. "I- I don't know." Had Ryou ever really told him? Or had he just accepted it? Had he just accepted that Ryou had ruined his life, and not challenged him?

"'I don't know'? Oh Mariku… what's with that tone? You used to be challenging, back when you screamed and yelled and snapped your teeth at me. But now you're acting like this…? It's sad…. I would have expected more from Mariku Ishtar, the one single person who ever posed a threat to me." Ryou looked a bit amused at this, speaking more to himself then to Mariku. Laughing softly, he continued. "But it's okay… You'll fight me more, later. This is just the beginning, after all. It's a shock for you. Your body and mind doesn't know how to react or deal with being my pet and wearing your metaphorical collars. But once you become used to it and see your new life for everything that it is- well, I look forward to that."

He paused for a while, just staring back at him. His smile was gone and replaced with a slight frown. Mariku exhaled sharply, a new wave of nausea coming over him. Ryou frowned again when he did so, and leaned over the table to press his hand to his forehead.

"You're not hot, but you might be sick. Your body is still adjusting to the amputation, so I wouldn't worry about it. I'll bring you medicine in the morning." Ryou's eyes drifted to the side as if he was thinking about something. Looking back up to him, his smile was once again shown.

"You got me off track. Anyway… I picked you for a specific reason, Mariku. I could have had anyone as my pet. Free picking. But I didn't want any of them; I wanted you. You see, Mariku, you interest me. The way your mind works, the way it ticks… And your personality disorder the most. How were you really created? How does Malik keep you in check? You _are_ Malik, and yet you're not.

What I want… I want to open your mind. I want to see the way it works, the way that you function. I want to pick apart at your psyche, torture you until only Malik is left. I want you to be my perfect pet. I want to break your mind down until there is nothing left except for the fear of angering me, to have you grovel at my feet for just the slight chance that I won't hurt you. Because you see, Mariku, you appreciate the things you have the most when you know that you won't have them forever. I'll always have you, Malik Ishtar, but I won't have Mariku forever. Eventually, I will kill you. And it will be my job, my project to show you this, to show you that the only way to survive is to bend before me."

Ryou's words pierced through him as he stood up. He moved to circle around him, watching Mariku always as he studied him. The sickness wasn't only physical, but mental as well as he listened to his words. But Mariku didn't have time to dwell on his terror as Ryou continued.

"Good behavior is learned, not instinctual. I'm not going to expect you to please me always. In fact, it's just that that will make this so fun. And the only way for you to learn is if I show you how. The way to destroy the mind is through absolute torture. But I don't like to think of it as that. I'd like to think of it more as… Enlightenment. I'm going to enlighten you to the world, _my_ world. And, Mariku?" Ryou's pacing stopped as he stepped in front of him. His eyes wide, Mariku gasped as Ryou grabbed his chin to force him to look up at him. Nothing about Ryou was soft as he smiled at him then. "Everything has to start somewhere."

They looked at each other for a long time. Ryou, with his cold eyes, and Mariku with the feeling of raw terror. His heart beat fast as he looked back at him, running his words through his mind. Hadn't he tortured him enough? _Hadn't he killed him enough already!?_But Mariku did not speak. His mind went into a lockdown, and he was unable to do anything other then look back at him. Because it was too… surreal. Mariku never knew reality from illusion. And now, as he sat in a foreign room with his arm amputated and his chin held by the boy who he had never given a second thought about… Mariku didn't know what was truly real or not.

And as Ryou smiled at him, he used his free hand to move to what he had brought with him: a small radio, the same one he had had in his first room. Petrified, Mariku didn't flinch when the soft melody of an orchestral song began to play. Entranced in the face of danger, Mariku was numb as Ryou pulled him up to stand on his feet. He grabbed his remaining hand, twining their fingers together, although Mariku kept his loose, still too terrified to move in the slightest. The start of a violin duet beginning, Ryou wrapped his other arm around his waist and started to sway in a small dance.

The footwork was minimal, and Mariku followed him, stumbling a bit as Ryou pulled him towards his bed. They moved back and forth, his erratic heart beat in tempo to the music. Back and forth they swayed. It was Ryou's kind of sadism. At first disguised by softness and warmth, Mariku knew that eventually, he would torture him far beyond anything Mariku would have ever dreamed. His eyes continually wide, Mariku opened his mouth only slightly, the muted terror in his mind too much for him to handle.

"…Don't…"

"Don't?" Ryou's voice was quiet as he forced him into dance. Humming a bit to the music, he felt his hand tighten around his waist. "Pet, you don't get a choice in what I do and don't do with you. If I choose to hurt you, I can. If I choose to love on you, I can. If I choose to do both at once, I can. There's nothing you can do to stop me."

Pulling him and pushing him to the rhythm of the music, Ryou backstepped sharply, and Mariku stumbled. Ryou's hand around his waist pulled him to him, reversing their positions. The orchestral piece changing in tone and style to a more somber melody, Mariku gasped as Ryou shoved him onto his bed.

He landed on his back with an 'oomph', at first confused why Ryou would do such a thing. But as he tried to sit up, Ryou shoved him back down. And he saw the look in his eyes. The look of sadism. Mariku felt his blood run cold as he tried to scramble back with his good arm, knowing what Ryou meant by 'Everything starts somewhere'. Desperately, Mariku wished for his other arm back, to use it to aid him in escaping pain as he pulled himself backwards away from Ryou. He felt pathetic, desperate, terrified, as Ryou caught his leg and pulled him towards him.

It was like Mariku's senses were numbed. He could not hear, could not feel, and could not see. The only thing he heard was his erratic heart beat, the only thing he felt was Ryou's hands on his chest, and the only thing he could see was his face above him, grinning with dark shadows accenting his sadism. But Mariku did not want to be hurt. And he would save himself. Above all else, Mariku would save himself. It was the reason for why he was created. So when Ryou grabbed onto his ankle and pulled him back towards him, shoving his hands onto his chest and pushing him harder into the mattress, Mariku clenched his remaining hand into a fist and punched Ryou hard in the jaw.

He seemed a little shocked at first, not expecting him to retaliate. But Ryou's shock quickly turned to anger. The force of the blow having turned his head to the side, Mariku watched silently in horror as he turned his head to look at him. His eyes narrowed, Ryou grinned darkly.

"Well, Mariku, I don't think that was one of the smartest things you could have done. But that's why I'm here to teach you. Isn't that right, _pet_?" Narrowing his eyes further, Ryou scowled and spit blood onto his face from when he had punched him. Flinching when it made contact with his cheek, Mariku was disgusted as he felt the blood drip down his skin.

"Please-"

"Shut up."

And when he looked back at Ryou, his arm was raised, and Mariku immediately squeezed his eyes shut and flinched backwards, expecting to be hit. Only, when no forceful contact was made with his skin, Mariku gasped when he felt him touch his stomach lightly where his shirt had ridden up.

He opened his eyes suddenly, not expecting his touch. Ryou, who was on his hands and knees above him, locked eyes with him as he continued to gently stroke the skin on his stomach. And almost immediately, he relaxed. Although, he still felt the same amount of fear. But Ryou was touching him. Maybe he wasn't going to torture him like he thought…

Ryou's soft fingers smoothed over his skin and Mariku relaxed. His heart continued to beat fast, but his breathing became normal again, and he closed his eyes. Ryou's touch made everything okay. It was one of the few comforts he had. Even if by the hands of his torturer… His palms were a bit cold as he flattened them down over his abdomen, kneading his fingers just a bit in a way that made Mariku the tiniest bit worried. He had only ever touched him on his face and arm… It was okay, though. It wasn't as if anywhere else he touched him would be different, after all.

Letting him continue, Mariku untensed as his hands worked away his fear. Perhaps it wasn't smart to let himself become vulnerable again, but Mariku didn't care. He wasn't being hurt now, and that was all that mattered. Sighing when he moved his hands up onto his ribcage, he didn't resist as Ryou unbuttoned his shirt. It was just the same. Skin was skin. It didn't matter where he touched him.

His hands were warmer now as he touched him on his chest, running his fingers light over his sides. Ryou was always soft. The way he touched him was calming, and Mariku made approving noises as he did so. Stroking the skin along his collar bone, he drifted his hands down lower to his chest. Flattening out his palms again, he curved his hand slightly and rubbed his nipples over with his thumb. It made Mariku gasp and open his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows, but Ryou shushed him, and he tentatively relaxed again, although slightly more nervous then before. The motion was done again, and Mariku closed his eyes against it.

But when he felt Ryou's breath on his stomach, and his lips only shortly after, Mariku couldn't resist sitting up and grabbing his hair to pull his head away. Watching him with wide eyes as he moved his head up to look at him, Mariku's stomach dropped when he saw the look that was on Ryou's face. But he couldn't let go. He was too scared.

Ryou's face was cold, his smile gone as he slowly reached up to grab his wrist. And when his fingers curled around his wrist, Mariku immediately let go.

"You don't know what I'm doing, do you, Mariku? You don't know why I'm touching you now, do you?"

Mariku kept his mouth closed tight shut. Answering honestly to Ryou, he had found, never had a good outcome. The corners of his mouth twitching up, Ryou's face lost none of it's sadism as he smiled up at him.

"Well, then, maybe you'll understand better now."

Letting go of his wrist, Mariku's hand dropped to the ground, and Ryou shoved him back hard against the bed. Scared once again, his nerves only increased as Ryou started to undo his belt, his long fingers maneuvering it easily through his pant loops. Getting it all the way through, Ryou made a move to throw it away, but paused before setting it aside. Back to the task he had his mind on earlier, Ryou smiled darkly as he began to unbutton his pants.

Mariku's breaths became heavy. He didn't understand. Why…? Was this punishment? Was this Enlightenment? Ryou had said torture. But this was not torture. Ryou's touch made him melt with a core desire to be acknowledged like no one else ever had done to him. Making a noise in the back of his throat as Ryou unzipped his pants and began to pull them down, Mariku shifted nervously. Even though he longed for touch, he wasn't sure if he wanted to be touched so intimately.

Mariku was torn with what to do. He could either resist him as he pulled his pants down, or accept it and hope that he would touch him in a way that would be good. Internal conflict now familiar to him, Mariku knew picked which would cause him as little pain as possible. So squeezing his eyes shut tighter, Mariku allowed Ryou to strip his bottom half naked. But i-it would be okay. It was his body, after all. He deserved it. Wouldn't he want to have someone else appreciate it, as well? Mariku felt sick.

His eyes closed, Mariku whimpered when he felt Ryou's fingers on the insides of his thighs. They moved to the top of his legs, drifting upwards to his hips, and his nervousness increased with every second and every beat of the music still playing. As Ryou continued to touch him softly, and as the music calmed him, Mariku eventually relaxed again. Feeling somewhat content, Mariku froze as he felt something wet around something very… important. And almost immediately, Mariku gasped and bucked his hips upward while his mind drowned in terror.

Ryou, Ryou…

It went on for only a minute, but it was enough to leave Mariku confused and- very- …frustrated… He had never-… Mariku wanted to cry. How could he let himself like that…? How could he? But Mariku would not cry. He refused to cry. He had cried three times already. He would not allow himself to be pathetic any longer. Or at least, more pathetic then normal…

Feeling hands on his hips, Ryou pushed him down, and Mariku opened his eyes slowly, looking sadly up at him. Smirking, Ryou crawled over him and kissed his cheek.

"Don't worry. I don't plan on sucking you off. You'll be doing that for _me._ But it seems that you and Malik really are the same; you both like my mouth."

It hurt as Ryou kissed him all over his face. And Mariku was confused. He was confused why it hurt him so much. Wasn't touch just the same like he had thought? What was different from him… touching him… there? Why did it make him feel as though he was betraying himself? Why did it terrify him like it did? How was it that he loved and hated his touch at the same time? Why did he long for Ryou to continue touching him?

"Why, Mariku?" Ryou's voice was soft as he held his face and kissed him over and over. Pausing, he kept his lips near his jaw as he continued to speak. "You'll always long for my touch because you see me as somewhat of a parental figure. No one has ever shown you affection before. So the first person to even touch you, you automatically link to 'mother'. Though, you'll learn soon that affection and touch are not the same things." His breath was hot as he breathed against him. "And since you do subconsciously see me as such… I can do horrible things to you. Some of the most disgusting and terrifying things you could ever think of. But you will never truly hate your parents, Mariku, and you will never truly hate me. I'm going to torture you, and you're going to both hate me, and love me for it."

And sitting up, Ryou smiled at him, the light filtering through the curtains playing eerily on his face. Just like the shadows had in the operating room… Shifting his weight above him, Mariku was terrified as Ryou moved off the bed.

"R-Ryou…" He was reminded again of the operating room. It was now the second time that he had called out for him when he had left him lying down. Because when Ryou left, he left for a reason, and Mariku would dread his return. "Ryou, please, don't leave me. I-I swear that I'll be better. Just d-don't hurt me. Please, please…" So pathetic… Mariku wasn't even himself anymore… Would he sink so low as to beg just to save himself from pain?

But Ryou's only reply was to increase the volume of the classical music. He was terrified, he was terrified… The last time Ryou had left him, he had come back with a needle, and that was when… he had been damaged beyond repair… But could Ryou deform him farther? …Mariku still had three limbs left. And his mind. Ryou could start anywhere. Mariku was not invulnerable, and it was one of the things he had to deal with the hardest. He had been unstoppable at Battle City, seen himself as a god, but… he was just as human as Malik was. Mariku could be hurt, and wouldn't be able to heal.

But Ryou always came back to him and Mariku whimpered when he felt him touch him again. His fingers, now, though, were a bit colder then they had been before. How had they gotten so cold so fast? But Mariku didn't dwell on it long. He continued to keep his eyes closed as Ryou trailed his fingers along his cheek and down his chest, dipping a little into the slight cave in of his stomach, and traveling down to his hips. Brushing against the part of him that was still hard, his fingers stopped moving suddenly. Exhaling, Mariku waited for him to continue, letting the terror recede until it was only a dull throb in his mind.

There had to be a catch. Why would Ryou be kind to him when he returned? Shouldn't he be hurting him, terrifying him? It confused him, and Mariku felt worry wallow up inside of him. Nervous once again, Mariku opened his eyes to look down at Ryou. But when he did, he immediately regretted it, and it took every ounce of himself to not immediately get sick on the spot. Because when he opened his eyes, Mariku learned the reason why Ryou's fingers were so cold. Because the fingers were not Ryou's. They were_his._

Time passed slowly as he stared down at Ryou with wide eyes, Ryou smiling back up at him. And in his hand, was his arm. His arm. His arm. _His arm._His ARM. The embodiment of everything he had suffered through, his symbolic collar. And Ryou had kept it. HE WAS HOLDING HIS _ARM_. Disbelief overrode the horror of it all. But only briefly. And once the shock wore off, Mariku wanted desperately to be sick. There was no way to explain how he felt as he looked down at his tormentor as he held the limb that had once been his.

"Torture isn't always physical, Mariku," Ryou said as he narrowed his eyes up at him, "sometimes, it's mental as well. But of course, they're the best when they're coupled together. This will be your first lesson."

Mariku was frozen in terror. Frozen in Hell. Contrasting freezing fear to the hot, burning sickness that resided in his mind and chest. And so Mariku could do nothing as Ryou took that arm, his arm, his flesh and blood arm that he had saved even after it had been amputated, and set it aside to spread his thighs. Ryou's hands were so soft, so smooth, and so comforting against his skin. It was his sadism. A gilded truth. Ryou was anything but soft. Moving his thighs apart so that Mariku lay spread out before him, Mariku felt the first bit of humiliation, embarrassment. But of course, above all else, fear. Horrible fear that clawed at his chest. His fear was an animal, and it begged for him to release it so that he could do something, anything to save himself. He needed to kill Ryou.

"And yet, you still don't understand what I'm going to do to you. I wanted you to resist, Mariku, but things will improve for me later. But I will not go slow with you. You'll beg for me to stop, but I won't. I never will. I know you won't try to get away. I know how fear works with you. You've finally started to understand that I am Master. So bite the bullet and take it."

And maybe Mariku really didn't understand. Maybe he really was naïve; Mariku had only been truly alive for six years, after all, and he had only been allowed to experience a small fraction of that for himself. He knew little about the world, and did not know what other way to react other then scream as Ryou picked up his arm, positioned its fingers before him, and pushed them into a place that no fingers should ever go.

Should he have been humiliated, horrified? Mariku didn't know what Ryou was doing. He knew that it hurt just a little, but the torture he felt was not physical. It was mental. And as always, Ryou was always right.

His scream portrayed everything that his pleads could not. It showed his terror, his confusion, his denial. This was not happening to him. Ryou was not… fingering him with… the arm that he had cut off of him. Surreal, surreal. His life was so surreal. But he could_feel_ it. Could feel _his_ fingers moving in and out of them as Ryou maneuvered his arm. It was degrading, mocking, and it hurt his mind terribly. It hurt, it hurt. The concept was too abstract, too morbidly petrifying. Mariku had felt terror since Ryou had entered his life. But this was something more then terror. This was the operation room terror. This was more-then-fear.

Never allowing himself to cry, Mariku dealt with it silently as he suffered internally. His arm, his fingers, had stolen his body heat and were no longer cold. But… the arm had not yet decayed. It was as if it was kept in suspended animation, perpetually… alive, working, living. It was as if it was still a part of him, even when separated. His face burned in humiliation from being touched in such a place, and his chest ached in more then fear. His fear was a siren, and it shrieked and shrieked inside of his head. But Mariku could do nothing, nothing. Ryou was always right. He could not get away. He wouldn't even try… Mariku had already accepted his helplessness. Mariku was nothing without the Rod.

The fingers created friction, and it hurt a little as they were continually pushed into him. His body trembled, the fear becoming physical as he portrayed it. Hazing through his mind came the music, the soft haunting variation of a bass instrument, low and melancholy. Periods of woodwinds coming in to meet its melody every so often, they would drop suddenly and play in a low hum before starting back up with the rising and falling crescendos. Distracted momentarily from reality, Mariku did not react when Ryou added two more of…_his_ fingers. At least, not first anyway. But when he whimpered at the invasion that now truly hurt, everything…stopped.

Everything was… removed.

And Ryou smiled at him.

"Let's continue, Mariku. I'm impatient; I want to be the source of every one of your screams. Lie down, keep quiet, and obey me, pet."

Shuddering, Mariku repressed his terror. It was easier to deal with when he did not face it head on. Facing it now, when things were not terribly wrong, would only make things worse when they grew to be harder then he could imagine. Flinching when he felt fingers on his chest, Mariku looked up petrified when Ryou touched him. Touch was not the same. Touch was now the reminder of his amputation, of his hell, of his _new life._

Ryou sat back onto his knees, and Mariku watched in something a bit like morbid wonder as he slowly removed his shirt. Ryou's skin was so creamy white, so pale, and so much different from his own dark skin. His chest was small, but still masculine, and his stomach was completely flat. Distancing the person from the body, Ryou's body was beautiful, even though the holder of it was anything but. His bottom half, Mariku learned as Ryou unbuttoned his pants and pulled them off along with his underwear, was beautiful as well, but he did not dwell on it much. Because it did nothing more then terrify him. Mariku knew what Ryou planned on doing with him when he saw his erection.

The shaking returned, and Mariku bit his lip as he squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to look. He didn't want to look, he didn't want to-

"Ah-!"

Mariku gasped as he felt something tight being jerked around his neck. Opening his eyes wide, he choked as he saw Ryou above him. Holding his belt, Mariku had not felt it as he looped it around his neck. The buckle was kept undone so that it could be tightened. And Mariku really did start to understand. Ryou wanted him as his pet. Willing, compliant. But he would not be unless there were… punishments for his actions. And so to keep him from running, Ryou kept him forcefully with him, unable to resist. If he resisted, he would kill him. And Mariku did not doubt that.

Sitting on his middle, Ryou grinned and leaned over him. "I told you that I'd never love you, Mariku, and I plan to keep that promise. But your body is something else, and I plan to enjoy this fully, to the greatest extent." He reached out a hand, and Mariku could not help but flinch back as Ryou touched his cheek. But when he did so, Ryou smacked him hard in the same spot where he had touched him so tenderly only seconds before. Mariku again resisted the need to cry. "It'll hurt like nothing you've ever experience; you let Malik deal with the amputation, after all. And when it hurts, I expect for you to scream."

Those were the last words Ryou spoke to him. And so with every bit of sadism that he had, Ryou smiled as he moved of his middle to kneel between his legs. Spreading them apart just like before, Ryou groaned as he touched his erection. He had gotten hard from watching him suffer. A true sadist… Despairing, Mariku was tired. He was tired of fighting. He was tired of fear. He just wanted to rest for a long, long time. It would happen, and he could do nothing about it. Mariku let Ryou put his fingers into him when he coated them with the lubricant he had brought.

Watching dully as Ryou's fingers left him to spread it over his cock, Mariku understood the value of the collar around his neck. He was owned. He had already given up. And it had only taken such a short period of time. Mariku wondered if he'd ever be strong again. His fingers shaking when Ryou finished and moved to line himself up, Mariku chanted the one thing that kept him away from breaking.

'_I'll kill him. I'll kill him. I'll kill him and save myself.'_

Lifting his hips up, Ryou's finger nails dug into his skin, and was a mirror to the pain he felt only seconds afterward. Without warning, Ryou thrust hard into him. And Ryou was always right. It hurt more then anything he had ever felt before. The animalistic terror inside of him bubbling up to the extreme, the keeper over it let go of the leash, and Mariku did not resist the most wretched scream he could imagine. Throwing his head back, he gave in to the complete agony of being stretched beyond anything he had ever felt. He wrung the blankets in his hands, clenching them to the point that he thought they would rip. Anything to lesson the complete agony. More then Pain. Ryou was too big.

Ryou, Ryou…

"P-PLEASE GOD, G-GOD! PLEASE STOP, _PLEASE_."

But it had been what Ryou wanted. He wanted his agony, his screams. And he got them. And instead of giving him mercy, the only thing Ryou gave him was a twisted smile as he threw his head back and moaned in pleasure. He allowed him no time to adjust, and the moment he reached the hilt, he drew back just in time to thrust into him. Harder. Again. And again. Harder each time. A true crescendo of pain. And it fit perfectly to the music that drifted through his screams.

His mind was hazy, unable to think of anything other then the pain. It left him defenseless, immobile; truly, truly helpless. He didn't even have two arms to defend himself. All he could manage was to scream each time that Ryou jerked into him. Anything to lessen the pain. Hyperventilation coming back, Mariku refused to cry. He would not cry. He would not cry. He would not sink lower then begging. And he had promised himself that. Ryou could try to break him, but he would not allow himself to be broken on his own.

Ryou's face was flushed. His mouth was open, and he breathed heavily. He moaned with every wonderful feeling that _he_ received. Everything for him. Everything was his. And he took it all as he groped his hands along Mariku's body, looking down at him through slightly unfocussed eyes. His touch was no longer welcoming.

"You're so fucking tight, Mariku."

His thrusts were hard with force behind them, as if he was purposefully trying to drive him into the bed. At one point, he had grabbed one of his thighs, and moved it higher so that he could lean into it, and take him with everything he had. Mariku felt used. This was not what his body was meant for. His body was the one thing that he loved in the world, the only thing he had ever wanted. And now it was being degraded beyond right. Mariku didn't know what to think when he felt the first bit of pleasure.

It was something almost palpable, the pleasure, as it pierced through his pain. But it was gone instantly, and Mariku almost doubted that it had been there in the first place. But when Ryou rocked into him at the same angle, he felt it again, and he exhaled sharply without a scream. Mariku now felt dirty and used. He should have not enjoyed it, that-, that _thing_ of pleasure. It was so disgusting. His life was _ruined,_his arm was _gone._ And yet… he enjoyed it as he was being raped by the causer of all his pain? The idea made him more sick then the sight of his amputated arm.

And he wanted comfort. He wanted some bit of comfort as he was tortured. He wanted someone to touch him, to hold him, and tell him that everything would be alright. But he had no one. He had no one to comfort him as he was fucked hard into his own bed by the sole person who had ruined his life. The only comfort he would get was if he made it himself. And so tentatively, Mariku moved his remaining arm up, and- … wrapped it around Ryou's neck. He held him close, and closed his eyes so that he could not see Ryou's expression as he did so. Anger would be okay. But if it was a look of rejection… Mariku could not deal with that. Although, with his eyes closed, it only heightened his senses, and everything he was feeling. Again, the pleasure returned.

It happened when Ryou thrust against a certain spot, one spot that made his thighs tremble and his toes curl just a bit. It was the pleasure that, coupled with the pain, allowed him to get an erection in even the worst of scenarios. Mariku was getting off when he was raped. Humiliated, disgusted, and mentally exhausted, Mariku turned off his mind. He would not think. He would let it happen, and he would deal with it. He would hold onto Ryou, and let him finish. Because when he was done, Mariku would kill himself.

Ryou's body was hot and sweaty as he pulled him closer, Ryou using one of his hands to support himself up, and the other to hold his leg up. He could hear his groans as he moved, harsh noises in the back of his throat. And Mariku could feel every time that he rubbed against that place that made him feel pleasure. On and on it continued, and on and on it built up, until Mariku was unable to deal with it, and became delirious. He didn't know what was wrong with him, and was scared when he felt something build up inside of him. But it felt so good, so, so good, better then anything he had felt before. It got to the boiling point, where the pleasure made his legs shake and where he felt like he would explode. But it stayed like that, and it wouldn't stop. He needed to touch himself, but he couldn't. He didn't have two arms…

Without so much as a warning, Ryou sped up more, and he felt him become erratic with his pace. It began to hurt again, where the pain had died off slightly, and Mariku bit his lip to keep from screaming. Ryou gripped his hand tighter on his leg, and leaned forward more so that he was using every bit of his weight as he thrust into him. And then, it… stopped.

Ryou tensed suddenly, and Mariku opened his eyes in confusion to watch as his face, for one split second, was innocent like he had first known him. Without sadism. His face flushed and his mouth open, he looked completely content. And Mariku wished to kill him. His pleasure only came from his pain. But it was brief, that look, only a couple of seconds, before Ryou pulled out of him and slumped against him on the bed.

Mariku was left panting. Worn out, degraded, and internally conflicted, Mariku was reminded of his erection. It disgusted him, the want, but… he needed to come. He needed it, or he would die. But he was, too tired.

"Ryou…" His voice was shaky, and his mouth was dry. He could feel Ryou next to him, breathing deeply. "Ryou…" He had begged before. He could beg again. He was a shell of his former self, after all. Mariku was already broken.

"Do it… yourself…" Ryou replied breathily, his fingers twitching a little.

"Ryou, I can't, I- …please… Ryou…" He was going to die, he was going to die… And he really was. Mariku would kill himself tomorrow. It no longer mattered that he had degraded himself so far, had let himself become so pathetic. At least the last thing he could allow himself through all of the pain was a last bit of pleasure.

And maybe Ryou understood. Because through all of his sadism, Ryou sat up slowly and moved over him. A blank expression on his face, he wrapped his hand around his erection, and Mariku immediately melted under his touch. It took only a couple pumps of his hand before he came hard, and Mariku felt the pleasure that had built up. He understood the look on Ryou's face when he had come, because he had felt it as well. It numbed him to the world. And in those split seconds, everything was okay. He was still complete, ruled the world, and was his own person. He was free and was slave to nobody.

In complete silence apart from Ryou's breathing, Mariku let his hands touch him softly and slowly, the orchestral number coming to an end. A violin ending the piece, it settled his terror as well as Mariku fell asleep next to the person who promised to kill him.

* * *

**A bit of stockholm syndrome. **


	8. Part o8

"Get up."

The words were spoken coldly, cruelly. A harsh tone falling from even harsher lips. Something was pulling at him, tugging at his mind to keep him suspended forever in the soft haze of sleep. Sleep, where nothing ever hurt. But Ryou was his master, and Mariku was helpless to do anything for himself.

"Get up."

The words were spoken now with a bit of annoyance, tinging the vowels and consonants sharp. Ryou's hand rested on his back before drifting over to his shoulder to shove him softly. He was demanding now, but no pain had fell upon him yet. Mariku feared when that sort of soft dominance would turn ugly.

Ryou was restless, and there was something behind his actions that was forcing him to wake up. But Mariku had yet to open his eyes, the only pain that was able to be felt so far, was the reawakening to the outside world as Ryou's continuing touches eased him out of his comfortable place of numbness. Mariku hadn't remembered a time that he had woken with Ryou next to him in the same bed as him. Mariku also hadn't remembered ever hearing the tone of voice that graced across Ryou's words. It was an underlying feeling of excitement, and apprehension; the fear of the unknown, and the adrenaline that it brought with it. He knew that feeling well, or, he had in times prior; something was going to happen.

And when Mariku could no longer keep a stronghold on that flitting, promiscuous haze of sleep, he forced himself to move as Ryou became increasingly angry. His limbs hurt in ways that he had not expected. Slow, lethargic, achy. Mariku's eyes were the last thing to move has he forced his torso up with his remaining arm, a soft whimper escaping from his lips at the physical exertion. It had just been a small thing, too… The world was subdued as he blinked. The curtains had been drawn to filter the light, and he thanked Ryou just a bit for that small comfort. Ryou…

Ryou was so warm next to him. Ryou was such a contrast. But he was scared to look at him, terrified to see the face of his tormentor as he gave into his demands and woke up. He kept his eyes diverted, staring down at the blue and red pillows that decorated his bed. But the feeling of Ryou's hand resting on his head and running his fingers through his hair made his heart beat wild with terror. Mariku gulped and squeezed his eyes shut, his heart pounding. What would he do, what would he do to him? Mariku had learned by now that the only thing worth truly fearing was the recently forgotten threat of death. Death, not by Ryou's hands, but by his own, _Malik's._ So long as he was alive, Mariku could live, and Mariku could bear the pain of life.

Could he bear the weight of his crumbling mind upon his shoulders? The unwieldy weight of ticking insanity? The transient hope of freedom?

Ryou's fingers were warm and soft as he smoothed his hand across his face and held his chin between his thumb and forefinger. He forced Mariku's head towards him, and Mariku tried to jerk away. His pathetic attempts were easily crushed under the power of something a bit short of Divine Right, and full health. Mariku struggled to keep himself in check as Ryou looked down at him. He would not shake or struggle, would not humiliate himself farther…

"Look at me." But Ryou's words were absolute, and Mariku gave in easily. He had already been defeated. Mariku's eyes flicked up to Ryou's face, and he knew that he could see the trepidation hidden behind his temporary mask of courage. His false front wavered as he looked up at his cold, smiling face, and Mariku struggled to keep himself from breaking down. "Oh… yes, keep looking at me like that." Ryou's thumb rubbed over his bottom lip and Mariku exhaled shakily. He was toying with one of the only things he had left…

Ryou's smile faded shortly and he reverted back to the expression that Mariku knew was more natural to him. Though, it also made Mariku's already flimsy walls of self assurance fall with the cold look he gave him, and he broke down into his touch. That look reminded him of the one he had given him as he injected the needle into his arm… Just awake, and already Mariku had humiliated himself as he cried into Ryou's arms. It took him off guard just a bit, as if Ryou hadn't been expecting such a strong reaction, but he didn't seem to mind, and held him easily.

His hands moved over his sides and down his back, one of them dangerously close to touching the underside of his amputated arm. He held him close and forcefully, as if, although Mariku had been the one to initiate the touch, Ryou would be the one to keep it going and not let go.

He didn't particularly know why he was crying. It wasn't as if there was a truly good reason for it if he took away the hell he had been forced into. Maybe it was only the rush of to many emotions to his conscious mind so soon after waking, but still, Mariku let himself break down into sobs as his remaining hand wrapped around Ryou's waist. He didn't know why… Perhaps it was just that he _needed_ to cry. It was a coping mechanism. But not for Mariku… Mariku was not meant to cry… Mariku was anger and hatred and anguish. …So what was he if those things were gone, and only helplessness and the aching hope for freedom remained? It would make him Malik. That was what Malik was. But Mariku was not Malik. And if Mariku wasn't being Mariku… then… who was he?

For the first time in his life, Mariku felt as if there was a wall against his back.

Trapped.

With no where to run.

Initially, fully noticing Ryou's nakedness terrified him, as most things lately happened to do. It reminded him of the actions of the night prior, of Ryou's superiority, and indirectly, his own weakness. But, it was, in it's own sense, comforting. His skin against his own, his arms around him, someone holding him… Someone to have comfort him, to share body heat with, and to hold him like a child. It didn't matter that it was Ryou who was doing it. All that mattered was that he was not alone. Mariku had been alone for so long… and with the majority of his rights and abilities stripped from him, he was given one thing he had longed so desperately for, for the entirety of his gilded life; human compassion. And again, it didn't matter that Ryou was not truly comforting him or cared for him. All that mattered was that Mariku could believe that it was so.

His sobs had been short and had dwindled to silent tears quickly. And eventually, so did his crying all together. Quiet, Mariku continued to hold on to Ryou's waist, although Ryou's hands had stopped petting him a long time ago. Mariku sniffed softly, sighing dejectedly at his actions. He was so pathetic… The world seemed dull. He did not want to move. There was nothing left to live for other then the sheer idea of living. But Ryou would make him. He knew he would.

"Today is a very important day."

And Mariku was right.

Ryou's voice above him sounded excited, and his fingers twitched against his side and back. He could imagine his smile returning as Ryou spoke again. "Very important, Mariku. For me, and for Bakura. I think you'll find it so, too." He paused for a bit, and Mariku glanced away with lowered eyes. Ryou's words meant nothing to him… When Ryou did not resume talking, Mariku furrowed his eyebrows, confused. But Ryou continued on again, though it was definitely not what Mariku wanted to hear.

"Get up. I have to get you ready for today. I want you to look nice for our _guests_, after all."

The prospect of moving already made his limbs hurt, and Mariku whimpered as Ryou began to move away from him. Mariku lowered himself onto his stomach as Ryou pulled away to stand up, and squeezed his eyes shut as if, if he didn't look, he wouldn't have to face moving. But Ryou was his master, and Mariku was helpless to do anything but listen to him.

Ryou moved off the bed, expecting for him to do the same. His gaze was cold as Mariku forced his limbs to roll himself over. When he did, Mariku cried out in pain, squeezing his eyes shut. The sheer fact of knowing why it hurt to sit scared him. Faintly, he could hear Ryou laughing softly, and he felt his hands on him once again as he supported him. Mariku leaned his weight fully onto him, eager to regain his touch, and out of necessity.

He helped him up and moved him off the bed. Mariku's knees felt weak, and it was hard to walk, but Ryou forced him to do so. He leaned his weight onto him, though it was a bit awkward since Ryou was a good couple inches shorter then he was. Eventually Ryou was able to move him to the bathroom, and let Mariku lean against the counter as he turned on the water of the bathtub. The action made Mariku scared, and he tried to move farther into the corner of the room.

"What are you doing?" Ryou looked over at him with sharp eyes, and Mariku paused, frozen. His mouth opened slightly, and his mouth moved with words, but no sound came out.

"I-I'm just, I'm n-not-"

Ryou sighed, an angry expression on his face, and Mariku recoiled as if his look had been a palpable slap to the face. The glare continuing and Mariku trying to shrink farther back into the corner with every passing second, Ryou suddenly dropped his cold expression and laughed, although his eyes were still narrowed. Ryou gestured for him to 'come' with one finger, and Mariku furrowed his eyebrows nervously. It was easier to walk as Mariku began to truly wake up, and followed Ryou's orders with only a slight bit of hesitation. When he met his side, Ryou reached up and hooked his finger around his collar, jerking him down, making Mariku choke.

"You don't know _what_ you're talking about, do you?" He smiled and chuckled softly, rubbing his nose against this side of his face and kissing him softly. Ryou spoke to him like such a menial animal… "You're so stupid, little Mariku. But it's not like I expect anything out of you."

The words he spoke hurt, and Mariku had trouble numbing himself against him. This was not what he wanted to be… But Mariku had changed so much, and only the empty feeling of where his left arm used to be reminded him of it. So he obeyed quietly as Ryou instructed him to sit in the large bath. Although he was humiliated, Mariku could do nothing to object.

It didn't matter that he was naked because Ryou was as well. He had already seen his naked body more then he would have liked. …And when he looked at himself, looked down at his bare skin, and looked at the boy adjacent to him… Mariku knew that he could never truly be beaten. They were all the same. Beneath clothes, all they were… were human. Ryou was no more then he was, even if he lacked a body part crucial to his existence. He took solace in this, even if it was only a small one, and closed his eyes as Ryou turned on the water and gently began to bathe him.

He went slow, careful not to miss a spot, and especially careful not to get his amputated arm wet. It had been wrapped in bandages since the _operation,_ and Ryou had told him not to get it wet for some reason he could not remember. But he did remember that Ryou had told him if he got it wet, that meant that he would have to change the bandages, and his arm would be touched more then necessary. That was what motivated Mariku to never allow himself to forget. Though, as Ryou kneeled next to him and moved the shower head slowly across his body, Mariku feared that he might accidentally get his arm wet.

Or maybe not accidentally.

Ryou hummed as he sprayed him down with water. His hands moved eagerly across his body, rubbing his skin wherever he had washed him. Humiliated, Mariku hung his head and refused to look at him in the eyes, and kept his gaze downcast. The water was a bit cold but Mariku didn't dare object. It was just a minor inconvenience; he had been dealt far worse.

"I like to have you like this, you know." The smooth and languid tone of Ryou's accent was strong as he spoke to him. They both knew that Ryou was conversing only with himself as he talked. Mariku would not reply, and Ryou did not mind. He never did. So he merely smiled as Mariku shivered when he smoothed his hair down with the shower head. "Helpless to do anything for yourself, me having to take care of you… Just like an animal."

Even the water wasn't as cold as Ryou's words. They lacked so much warmth, hardened to the point of apathy for other human beings. Ryou let Mariku think over his degrading words as he continued to wash him, getting his skin wet so that he could clean him. Mariku flinched when the cord of the shower head rubbed against his body, the friction burning his skin when Ryou jerked it.

Mariku opened his eyes when he no longer felt the cold spray of the water on him, and looked over his shoulder to see Ryou turning the knob off. Ryou moved to sit back onto his knees, and looked at him with such contempt that it mirrored his cruel actions. It was his excuse to treat him _like_ an animal; if Ryou believed he was worthless, then he would feel no regret for the horrors he had done to him. Or maybe Ryou was just insane.

Expression remaining desolate, Mariku's eyes followed Ryou slowly as he stood up to walk over to a shelf along the wall that had an assortment of bottles on it. He looked at it for only a short while before picking three up and moving back to kneel before him. Ryou's face was calm, and he leaned his forearms onto the edge of the bathtub. He smiled and reached out for him, but Mariku instinctually recoiled.

"Don't be like that, I'm not going to hurt you. Come over here so that I can touch you. Come on, now, or you'll only further my view of you as a stupid animal." Ryou smiled and motioned to him to come forward, his voice sweet as if talking to a child.

Mariku wavered. Ryou's touch brought nothing but pain, but he had promised not to hurt him. There would be no reason for him to hurt him. It would be easy to give in. It was a simple order. Mariku kept his eyes low, flicking them up only briefly as he scooted forward, Ryou's hands instantly finding their way onto him and pulling him to the edge. His hands moved to hold his face as Ryou sat on the ledge, his feet next to his legs. Pulling his face forward, Ryou leaned in to kiss him. His white hair fell around his face, brushing against his cheeks, and Mariku closed his eyes. His lips were soft, this time, and Mariku moved to push up against him, desperate for Ryou to keep his lips on his own, and never, never pull away. He hated him so much.

"Lean back." Ryou's voice was silky smooth, breathy against his face as his half lowered eyes stared hard at him. Mariku looked up at him with a scared expression, but did as he asked. Leaning his back against the cold tile of the wall, Mariku opened his eyes and watched as Ryou popped the cap off of one of the bottles, and poured some onto his hands. His hands were cold with the substance when he touched him, smoothing it all over him and rubbing it into his skin. Some sort of soap…

"I'm going to make you look very nice today, pet." Ryou said, continuing on his one sided conversation. "Because today is a very nice day for me. Already it has been. Touching you like this, I think, counts for something very nice. Can't even wash yourself… chh." He made an amused noise, keeping his eyes on his stomach as he rubbed the soap onto his skin. "Not that I mind, though, like I said. I like you like this, pathetic and defenseless. It's so unlike you that it's sad, isn't it? But that's why it makes me so hot to think and look at you like this. You've already lost so much hope, you! Mariku Ishtar! I like looking at you right now, like this. In my house, in my country, locked away as my pet, a collar around your neck as I do something that I know humiliates you so much. It's beautiful; you're beautiful."

Ryou moved to hop off the edge and into the tub with him, pressing his body up against his shoulder. Mariku shuddered as his warm hands pulled his back to his chest and positioned him between his legs. The soft humming Ryou had started earlier resumed as well as his hands as he moved the soap down his legs, not paying much attention to the area in between. Eventually, though, one of Ryou's hands left, and Mariku could feel it behind him. He knew what he was doing as the back of his knuckles would move up and down his back and Ryou's breathing came in harder and breathier.

"I want to touch you so much whenever I look at you. Whenever I see you, with your shoulders hunched and your posture depressed, your eyes so dull as if there's nothing else out for you… I want to make you scream and cry, beg for me as I hurt you even more. Just so I can reassure myself that there are still so many things I can strip from you." Mariku stared dully at the wall in front of him, his head leaned back onto Ryou's shoulder as he spoke disgusting things. The hand of Ryou's that had been cleaning him had almost completely stopped, but the other one moved in earnest, and Mariku could feel Ryou buck his hips up every once in a while behind him. There was something in Mariku's throat that made him feel sick as Ryou moaned and stroked the inside of his thigh. "Because there is so much left. I-It's only the beginning, you just haven't seen it yet. There's so much more of you left for me… Ah- Ahh-A-and I love your body so much, y-your mind… I'm going to break you down, tear you apart… Pretty, p-pretty little M-mariku, my pet."

His mouth was hot as he kissed him down his neck, the motion of his hand behind his back speeding up faster. There was no more talking as Ryou kissed his neck with an open mouth, his remaining hand moving to grip his chin and force his head to move towards him so that he could kiss his cheek. Ryou's breaths were heavy and quick between his kisses, and Mariku warily looked back to see the expression on his face. Eyes closed, his face was completely flushed, and his eyebrows were furrowed just a bit, lips parted slightly. It was the second time that Mariku looked at Ryou after Battle City, and wondered what had happened to him as his face became completely innocent, and his body tensed all up.

Ryou slumped back against the tile wall, pulling him along back with him, and drifted both of his hands slowly down Mariku's chest. Though, one of his hands left a white, sticky trail as they moved along his skin. Resting for only a minute, Ryou regained composure as if nothing had happened, and shoved Mariku forward sharply so that he could get up. Turning the shower head back on and washing hair and ridding him of the soap suds, Ryou's face was blank, save for the flush that still remained. He made sure to clean his hand and the lower part of his body off as well, too.

* * *

The outfit Ryou had decided to put him in made him feel uncomfortable. Dressed in all white, Mariku fussed with the somewhat tight fitting vest, even though Ryou had already reprimanded him for it. Thankful that his arm had indeed not gotten wet and so he would not have to change the bandages, Mariku sat alone on his bed as Ryou moved around his room, fussing with how he looked as well.

"I don't like this." He was sure to keep his voice quiet. Mariku was tentative about voicing a complaint, but Ryou seemed to be in a very good mood, so he chanced it.

Still pacing, Ryou looked down at himself and then over at Mariku. "It doesn't matter. I like it. I picked that outfit out for you because I thought you'd look good in it, and you do. So don't complain, pet. …Any other time I would punish you for doing so, but I think I'll let up. You've been so good this past day." Although he wore a frown, his tone of voice was light, and he smiled directly after. "I'm excited about this, you know. I've been looking forward to it for a long time. Not that you would know, but…" A grin, and Ryou trailed off, pulling the bottom of his dark blue button up shirt down.

Walking towards him, Ryou bent down at the middle, and Mariku forced himself to keep from flinching backwards. Reaching out a hand, Mariku shuddered when he felt his skin on his cheek, but then like always, relaxed into it. His hand did not linger, though, and trailed down his neck, pausing at his shoulder. Gulping in anticipation for what he knew would happen, Mariku squeezed his eyes shut as he felt Ryou rub his hand down and underneath his amputated arm, feeling like little needles of electricity were coursing through him as he touched it. But he withdrew quickly, and Mariku sighed a shaky sigh.

"We're leaving. I can't stand staying in here any longer. I've been waiting too damn long for this." Helping him to his feet, Ryou looked at him only to clip the end of a leash onto his collar, tugging it softly to exert his dominance over him. Used to feeling menial, Mariku looked down at his bare feet. Though, he didn't feel depressed as he normally did. Because he was leaving his room, and because of Ryou's excitement that was not directed at him.

The feeling of being pulled along by his collar and led by a leash was not something that Mariku liked, but he forgot about the awkward feeling once Ryou shut the door behind him. The hallways were much different from the décor of his room. While his room was dark brown with orange tones, the rest of the house (palace? Castle?) was light blue. There were gold baseboards and a white ceiling as Ryou led him through the hallways, and Mariku was captivated by the sheer amount of rooms. How big was this building? He wondered if Ryou would become angry if he asked, but decided to keep quiet when a long row of windows appeared on his right.

Outside the day was cloudy, and it looked as if it would rain. Mariku longed to go outside. There was so much green… Would Ryou ever let him? The scenery captivated him as the walk concluded, Ryou stopping abruptly in front of him. He turned around and pressed his body up against him, looking up at him with a smile and dangerous eyes. He had never seen him look like that before…

"I only ask of you one thing, Mariku. Keep quiet, even when you see what will happen. But… I think you'll like it as well. After all, they tried to hurt you, too. They tried to stop us… But keep your mouth shut, and I'll be very happy indeed."

He gave him a short kiss on the lips, but Mariku's attention was only on the black door in front of them. Turning away from him, Ryou put his hand on the gold handle, and pulled it open, tugging Mariku along behind him. Light shined from the doorway, and Mariku squinted against the bright invasion. Stepping blindly out into the new room, he blinked a couple of times to regain his vision, but froze when he saw what before him.

It was a large auditorium, the floor tiled with ornate stone, the ceiling high, a chandelier hanging from it. Paintings of religious figures decorated the walls, and stained glass windows cast multicolored lights onto the floor. At the wall adjacent to him sat two gold chairs, thrones, regal in their design, and intimidating in their symbolization. But Mariku did not care about the interior design, as it was far over his head. The only thing he cared about, where the people that were forcibly kneeled on the floor in front of the throne. They were… everyone he had known from Malik's eyes in Battle City, and his own in the Finals.

Huddled together, their wrists were adorned with shackles, which had been locked down to the floor, so that they could neither lean back or stand without the key. And he knew so many faces. The faces of the woman who he had defeated in his first duel of illusion; Mai, and the boy who had tried to save her; Jounouchi. His friend, the one with the dark hair, he didn't know his name… but he knew his face, along with the faces of the Kaiba brothers. The faces of the Anzu girl, Jonouchi's sister, and others which he had seen as Malik. Those from Battle City whom he did not know their names, they were present as well. Centered in the very middle was what he had the least, yet most, expected. Forced between Kaiba and Jounouchi, kneeled the face of the Pharaoh… and the face of his host. Separate, but almost exactly identical, even though the Pharaoh's skin had changed to a complexion that almost matched his own. They had been separated as well, just as Ryou and Bakura… Mariku's teeth clenched together when he saw, at the very end, the silhouette of his sister. Faintly, in the back of his mind, he could hear Malik screaming at him to let him take control.

"I thought you would never show up." The sound of Bakura's voice cut sharp through his thoughts. Looking to his right, Mariku watched as Bakura stood from his seat on a throne to reach Ryou, kissing him lightly.

"I like to take my time. I want to savor this day, after all." Ryou smiled and placed his hands on his chest, looking up at him. They looked at each other a while, something being said between them through the wordless link that was the connection in their minds, before Ryou jerked him forward. Steeping up onto the platform which the thrones were seated, Ryou's shoes awoke their _guests'_ attention, and their heads all turned to watch him walk to his throne. Sitting down on it, Ryou pulled Mariku's leash down, and instructed him to sit at his feet.

But Mariku no longer cared of being treated in such a disgusting way. Because looking at the petrified expression on their _guests'_ faces, Mariku knew that his fate would be much better then the majority of theirs'. Looking down at them, Mariku felt a pity he didn't know that he was able to posses. Looking down at them, his eyes rested on the forms of the Pharaoh and his host, Yuugi. A hatred so strong surged inside of him, and Mariku felt the faint remnants of the bloodlust he had once possessed stir as he looked at his face. The Pharaoh had ruined Malik's life… And Mariku had been created because of him. The Pharaoh was the reason for all of his suffering, the reason why he was only a whisper in the back of Malik's mind. He had longed to kill him, sheath the dagger of his rod deep into his flesh, slit his throat, and as he lay dying on the ground, carve the same inscription on his back, onto his chest. His morbid mind gone, everything he had felt before left him. Because now, he had been brought down. They were… nothing. Both he… and the Pharaoh. They were both slaves under Ryou's rule, and with an instinctual knowledge, Mariku knew that he was the better one off.

Because Ryou would not kill him. But he would kill the Pharaoh. Very slowly, and very cruelly. This was Ryou's revenge. This was what he had worked for. And now he got it. Looking down at the familiar faces, Mariku mourned. He had been so wrong. He had thought himself a god, and his insanity had blinded him. But Ryou's cruelty had awoken him to everything he had ignored before; they were all human. Mariku mourned as he looked at the faces of all the people who would be killed that day, and Malik cried inside their mind as his eyes drifted over to their sister.

"So…" The fact that Ryou's voice was cheerful was more sadistic then any other tone he could have managed. Grinning upon his throne, Ryou narrowed his eyes and leaned forward to look down at the people at his feet.

"At one point, we played a game. But I didn't need the Heart of the Cards to help me win. And… it seems as if your life points have run out. Welcome to hell."

* * *

**Reviews are appreciated.**


	9. Part o9

_Huddled together, their wrists were adorned with shackles, which had been locked down to the floor, so that they could neither lean back or stand without the key. And he knew so many faces. The faces of the woman who he had defeated in his first duel of illusion; Mai, and the boy who had tried to save her; Jounouchi. His friend, the one with the dark hair, he didn't know his name… but he knew his face, along with the faces of the Kaiba brothers. The faces of the Anzu girl, Jonouchi's sister, and others which he had seen as Malik. Those from Battle City whom he did not know their names, they were present as well. Centered in the very middle was what he had the least, yet most, expected. Forced between Kaiba and Jounouchi, kneeled the face of the Pharaoh… and the face of his host. Separate, but almost exactly identical, even though the Pharaoh's skin had changed to a complexion that almost matched his own. They had been separated as well, just as Ryou and Bakura… Mariku's teeth clenched together when he saw, at the very end, the silhouette of his sister. Faintly, in the back of his mind, he could hear Malik screaming at him to let him take control._

"_So…" The fact that Ryou's voice was cheerful was more sadistic then any other tone he could have managed. Grinning upon his throne, Ryou narrowed his eyes and leaned forward to look down at the people at his feet._

"_At one point, we played a game. But I didn't need the Heart of the Cards to help me win. And… it seems as if your life points have run out. Welcome to hell."_

* * *

Ryou's face was calm, ever smiling as he leaned forward on his throne, fingers gripping a little harshly upon the arm rest, so that his knuckles were almost white. The room was completely silent apart from the heavy breathing of a few of the people shackled to the floor that Mariku didn't know. He waited a while, watching in anticipation as they remained silent. Grinning when nothing was still said, Ryou slowly stood up, and stepped down from his throne.

His shoes clanked loudly on the marble floor as he began to pace. Mariku remained frozen at the foot of Ryou's throne. Ryou had left the leash that bound him laying on the floor. He could run, he could try to, but Mariku knew that it would be useless. Something was not right, and Ryou would not make such a simple, stupid mistake on purpose. Horrible anticipation eating at his chest, he forced himself to remain still and silent as Ryou began to speak again, his eyes periodically flicking over to Malik's sister.

"…I suppose it's a shock to you, isn't it?" Ryou's voice wavered a bit, something that was now uncharacteristic of him, but he coughed to hide it. "You were the good guys, the ones who were always right, you self righteous-. But, no. The good guys always win, don't they? You certainantly believed it. So what do you think now, I suppose that's my question to you. What do you think now that you have lost, and I have won? Me! Ryou Bakura! The same one you mocked and taunted all those times! How does it feel now that you know that you are getting paid back every little thing you dealt upon me!?"

Ryou's voice rose, and Mariku watched as he paused, his hands clenched. He had seen him angry only once, and subconsciously drew back closer to the throne. Calming, Ryou's shoulders untensed, and he began pacing again, turning around to walk towards Mariku.

"You were wrong, though. You weren't right, you never were. There _is_ no right or wrong, no bad guys or good guys, only achievers and losers, and you have lost. You should have fucking paid attention to what was right underneath your nose; but I guess nobody ever cared about little Ryou Bakura. But look at me now, no, look at us! Look and see who is above, and who is below! Who are the ones chained, and who is free!? I have power… I have everything that I could ever want."

Mariku was wary as Ryou stepped up to the throne again, nearing him. He pulled back, terrified, when he realized that Ryou's target was him. Ryou's hands were surprisingly warm as he reached out for his face, touching him gently, before grinning and grabbing his arm. He yanked him forward with force, stepping to the side, and threw him forward to the ground. He tried to catch himself, and it was a mocking blow when he realized he couldn't with only one arm, and fell forward onto the marble ground.

The emotion of humiliation wasn't one that Mariku was used to, even if he had only been alive for such few days. But he truly knew what it meant when he realized that his vulnerability was put on display before the very people he had tortured and tormented. Mariku kept his head down, not knowing what to do, and coughed when he felt a sharp tugging at his neck. Ryou yanked his leash backwards, forcing to sit on his knees, and moved behind him, still keeping a constant pull on the leash so that the collar was tight around his neck.

Ryou kneeled behind him, smiling as he gripped his chin with his remaining hand, and forced him to look forward at the people at their feet. It did no good to try and shake his head. Letting the leash drop, Mariku's heart dropped with it as he felt Ryou's now free hand move to ghost along the left side of his body, and up near his shoulder.

"It's amazing what all I've been able to achieve, because believe me, it's no joke. You've seen the world, my world, you know my power. But maybe it hasn't hit you yet; it's not personal enough. But you see, even the person who you feared most now bends and kneels before me." Ryou's voice turned calm, sweet, as he began to touch him harder. Mariku closed his eyes, and exhaled shakily, unable to bear the eyes of his enemies on him in such a state. Humiliated, degraded, objectified… He knew these people. As Seto looked up at him, as Jounouchi, as the Pharaoh… they would all watch, and they were.

"Look at him. It's Mariku Ishtar, do you remember? Do you remember Mariku, Malik? He almost killed you, tried to kill you, and he would have gotten away with it. You feared him, and he was powerful. He had command over all of you, through the rod and through the persuasive power of fear. He claimed to be born from darkness. But, look…" Mariku's eyebrows furrowed and he choked a bit as he felt Ryou's hand finally touch his amputated arm. His body froze up, and his mind went into lock down, only one thing running through it: terror. Mariku was completely still as Ryou touched his arm. It was the only way to cope.

"Look at what he's become, because of me. He is merely my pet now, an animal. I have arranged his body to my liking, and I have broken down his mind to fit my tastes. He's pathetic, weak, menial, my slave. And he can say nothing against it. He can do nothing to help himself."

Through the humiliation, Mariku's mind had been upon himself, but Ryou's wasn't. He wasn't thinking about him, even if he was speaking about him. Mariku was merely a tool for his visual, and once Ryou was done with him, he threw him back to the ground, and began pacing again, his voice rising. And yet still, not one word was spoken against him. They all merely watched, their world having already crumbled.

"I know what you're going to do. You're going to beg a-and beg and _cry_ for me not to hurt you. 'Oh Ryou, please, no! I don't deserve it!'" His voice became higher as he mimicked the sound of a girl, placing his hands over his heart in a mocking fashion. But his hands dropped suddenly, and his voice became very cold. Swiveling to face them head on, Mariku was glad of his position that he didn't have to see his face. "But you know what? Now you _all_ are. You're _all_ going to suffer for what you did to me. B-Because it's what I deserve! Nobody _ever_ listened to me, even when I _screamed_ for you to hear, to pay attention! You call me the cruel one, now! But you never thought of anything of what you did! Because oh, no! _You_ were the _good guys_! No justice was ever-"

"Bakura!"

And he was cut off suddenly.

As if the entire room had held its breath in a growing escalation of fear and trepidation, that rising climax died suddenly, and every person in the room turned to look at the owner of the voice who dared to speak against Ryou, the holder of all the senen items.

Mariku's blood ran cold with hatred instinctly at the sound of the voice. He knew it well, perhaps better then any others. For a split second, he was back at the Battle City Finals, and his hatred was his reason for living. But reality had sunk in all too well, and all that he could do was mourn. How far they had all dwindled…

Ryou's body was stiff, he could tell, and Mariku watched as he slowly turned around to face the owner of the voice. Complete silence fell over the room, the only thing breaking it being the soles of Ryou's shoes as they clanked harshly against the marble floor, the sound reverberating around the room. But then it all stopped, and there was no sound as Ryou stood over the owner of the voice.

"I find it fitting that it would be you who would be the first to speak against me. You always did have a loud mouth, screaming over the cards and preaching about their 'heart'-"

"Ryou, you promised me."

Mariku watched as the eyes of the Pharaoh's friends all turned towards the new voice. Although he was unsurprised to see Bakura walking over to him, he was apprehensive, and felt in his gut that it would not turn out well.

"Touzouku, I'm not-"

"Well I am, and you're getting a little too ahead of yourself, don't you think?" He needed no answer.

Ryou smiled a bit in the way that made his eyes narrow as he greeted the other. Bakura, though, didn't acknowledge him as much, only trailed his hand along his back before passing him by completely to stand in the spot that he once did.

It was the final duel, and the tides were unbalanced by fate. The winner would be undisputable.

"Hello, _Pharaoh._" Bakura's eyes weren't quite sane as he grinned down upon the man at his feet. "My, quiet, aren't we now? Don't have anything else to say?" He grinned wider, and Bakura suddenly reached out to grab a handful of his hair and yanked his head back harshly. "Now, now, I can see you can still speak, so why don't you!? How about trying to be a little debonair instead of just the demanding bitch that you've always been?"

He laughed and shook his had, making Yami no Yuugi finally try and get away from his touch. Having only wanted his resistance, Bakura let go instantly when he shook away. The Pharaoh kept his head down, his hair covering his eyes. And for a small moment, he looked truly beat, the life gone from him, as he knew that he would never truly survive. But it was gone, and he raised his head to look Bakura straight in the eyes.

"This is what you've wanted, Bakura, isn't it? To see me at your feet? You're such a fool…"

It was exactly the wrong thing to say, and Mariku was unsurprised as he became horribly angry. The Pharaoh's words had been completely efficacious.

"Fool, fool!? We'll see who's the damned fool! The world is mine, Pharaoh! You are what you were always supposed to be; a sniveling worm at my feet! And you will address me as you should! Touzouku! The king of thieves! You are the reason for the title. You ruined my life, you ruined everything! Because of you I suffered, and because of you I resorted to what gave me my title!"

"…You blame me?" His tone was irresolute, as if he wasn't really sure if he could honestly grasp the idea. "Even after all this time, you blame me? Even at the very end, you blame me? I did nothing to you. You've wasted all of this time waiting to kill me, but it wasn't my fault. I did nothing to you. I never did. You've shrouded your vision because you can't handle the idea that you have no one left to hate. You know it wasn't me, but I'm the only one left. My father is dead, and so are the people who truly hurt you. If you kill me, you will never be satisfied. Vengeance only works when the other person is a playing factor… Touzouku."

Again, silence.

There was no way to expurgate Yami no Yuugi's words, even if through dissension. Because Bakura could not deny the truth. He could not continue to deny the truth, the underlying facts of history. Could he impugn the fact that everything he had said was true? Bakura was not stupid, but his mind was forever warped. He _could_deny what he said, and he always had. It was no trouble, it was only the ending argument. And it fell through.

All that his final beg, his final plead for understanding earned the Pharaoh was for Bakura to become intemperate. It was the end, the final battle, and the final act of odium. There was nothing left for Bakura, no words that he could ever say. Bakura could not deny it, but he could get rid of what caused his purpose for living.

And he had waited so long.

"SHUT _UP_!_"_

He had been expecting blood, torture, but not for Touzouku to slam his foot down on the manacles of the Pharaoh's wrists, immediately freeing him for him forced kneeled position. But he had no time to do anything, not to run or try to save his omote's life as he trembled next to him in terror. Instead, he was yanked from the floor, forced to stand as Touzouku punched him hard in the stomach.

Yami no Yuugi coughed, and doubled over a bit, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He had no doubtably been in his crouched position for hours, and his body did not work quickly or easily. It was no trouble on Bakura's part to beat him to the floor, relegating him back to the position he had been in only moments before. The Pharaoh struggled to stand, and managed to hit him back a couple of times, but his attempts were so easily crushed that Mariku laughed on a somewhat higher level: he was being beaten physically as he had beaten others through Duel Monsters.

Bakura was screaming, threatening, hysterical through rage. It was a complete bedlam of motion. Which is why it came to such confusion when everything…stopped when Yami no Yuugi just locked up, as if in Rigimortis. Bakura, who was the obvious cause of this, even though he did not know how, seemed to be surprised as well. His look of consternation, though, quickly changed into a smile. But Bakura never smiled, and the look was darker then anything else he could have imagined.

"I want," His voice was calm, dispassionate, and he circled him with critical eyes, "to see you suffer, to hear you scream. I want to put you through, physically, everything you did to me. …And we'll start by this."

It looked almost compassionate as Touzouku took Yami no Yuugi's hand in his own. He looked down at it through lowered eyes, and spread his fingers apart slowly.

"One. Two. Three. Four. Five." He counted them off slowly, the smile coming back to his face. But it seemed that the Pharaoh finally realized his true predicament, and his expression of terror countered Touzouku's. But he remained oddly silent. "It's amazing that such small things like fingers can do; without them, you have nothing. You can't even play Duel Monsters. What would you do if that happened, Pharaoh?"

But Yami no Yuugi said nothing. Or maybe… _could_ say nothing.

"Silent? They must not mean much, then. Here, let's rid you of unnecessary weight."

There was a pause, and then a very audible snap as Mariku's blood rushed cold. He had- snap. He had done it again- snap. The look of pure joy on Touzouku's face could not be rivaled as he slowly, one by one, broke the Pharaoh's fingers. He could see his hand as he switched to do the other one. The angles that his fingers were at were morbid along with disgusting, and Mariku felt sick that he had at one time dreamed of doing such a thing to him himself, and felt sicker when he still held that fantasy.

The crowd of people held it's breath, and some exhaled. Mariku did not look to the face of the omote, Yuugi. Bakura's face was maniacal, and he started to laugh at Yami no Yuugi's expression. Although his face was turned from him, Mariku could imagine what it looked like. And he sympathized, even if the pain was nothing even comparable to the more-then-pain of his… amputation…

When the final snap was heard, Touzouku was left painting with adrenaline. He grinned darkly, and exhaled shakily as he then crushed Yami no Yuugi's fingers together, watching the expression of absolute anguish on his face.

"There, that's much better, isn't it? Now you won't ever have to worry about drawing the heart of the cards instead. But- you remember my shackles, don't you? Back when we were still human? Let's let you feel how it feels to have your wrists confined."

It came as no surprise when Bakura took his wrist in his hand, and moved it into a position to snap it. But Mariku still couldn't help but flinch when he heard the loud crack as Touzouku forced the bone to break. He couldn't look over at the Pharaoh as he fell to the ground in pain and writhed on the floor. His eyes, instead, moved to his friends.

Their expressions were all generally the same: horrified. It was an epitome of horror, as if they couldn't register what was going on, but knew they could do nothing to stop it. They could not fight back, they were beaten. And they would watch as their strong hold of hope was murdered before their very eyes. Yet it was Yuugi who was the only one void of emotion. He knew it would happen, and it was.

"You're such a coward. You don't even try to fight back. But I bet it's because you don't want to see your friends die before you, do you? You want to die first. You're such a coward."

Blood now poured from the Pharaoh's wrists where the bone had broken through the skin and let the blood flow go. His arteries in his wrists were no doubtably broken, and Mariku knew that he only had a couple minutes to live. The omote, Yuugi, now cried along with the dark haired girl.

Bakura, who's hysteria had only grown, now laughed in full as he watched the pharaoh suffer. Blood drenched the floor, and started to pool a bit at his feet. It made a 'gloosh' sound under his feet.

"Now, Pharaoh, let me hear you scream! Please, don't hold it back!"

It was beautifully mocking, beautiful in sadistic planning when Bakura slit his throat and allowed him to speak. His mouth open in silent screams now turned up high in decibel as he let go of anguish. Blood filled his mouth, poured out, and out of his neck as well. But Yami no Yuugi was not dead, yet, and Bakura knew this as he smeared the blood off of his knife that he had pulled from his pocket.

Maybe it was his last and final apology for murder in cold blood, but Bakura allowed the Pharaoh to die without seeing the faces of his friends. Ryou, who had stood completely silent, walked over to hand him the puzzle which had been looped around his neck. Bakura took it eagerly, and bent down to whisper something in the Pharaoh's ear before creating a noose out of it and tying it around his neck.

"Looks like you've run out of life points."

And he yanked. Hard.

The Pharaoh's body instantly stopped moving.

It was over.

The dark haired girl, Anzu, was sobbing, and wouldn't stop, and a few others were, as well, along with the omote and the blonde haired one named Jounouchi. Touzouku breathed heavily as he let the body slump to the floor, the puzzle clanking loudly against the marble floor, now covered in blood as it still oozed out of the body. He pushed the body with his foot, and watched as it rolled back, lifeless. Looking up, Bakura smiled at Ryou.

"I-It's all yours. I-It's all over for me."

His body didn't seem to be working well, as if it was too much for him to handle the thought that the Pharaoh was finally dead. He walked with shaky footsteps to sit back on his throne. Mariku caught his eye, and shuddered, looking away. His hand tingled a bit, and he clenched it, feeling sick.

Ryou was talking, but he wasn't listening. He was saying something to the dark haired girl, taunting her as she sobbed. He grabbed her by the hair and slapped her, all the while, a smile upon his face. Starting to pace once again, Ryou stopped in front of Jounouchi, and Mariku looked up to watch the next portion of terror so close to the first. The Pharaoh's body was left to rot on the floor.

"Jounouchi, how are you?" Ryou smiled, and he shuddered as he lifted his chin up with his index finger. "Quiet, you too? That's a shame, you used to have so many things to say to me. You used to say how stupid I was, how worthless… Don't you have any comments? Not one? I do not forgive, and I do not forget."

He awaited only silence, and smiled when he got just that.

"Shame. You liked the show, didn't you?"

"F-fuck you…" It touched a nerve, the desired reaction, and Ryou smiled ever further. Jounouchi kept his eyes diverted, obscured by his bangs, but could not hide how he grit his teeth and shook very faintly. "F-Fuck you, Ryou. This isn't revenge, this is murder and evil. Anything that anyone could have ever done to you could never live up to what you're doing now."

Ryou paused for a moment and seemed to contemplate his words. It passed quickly, however, and he moved on easily. "Perhaps. But you can say nothing against it, can you? You, I'll take the greatest enjoyment out of killing. Do you want to share in this? Or would you rather wait? It's okay if you choose to wait. You're nothing without the Pharaoh, after all. I know you're not brave." His voice completely innocent, the true meaning of the words were only heightened in heinousness.

"I-" Jounouchi was lost, completely gone. He resigned himself to his fate; he knew he was going to die. But he was not strong, and couldn't pretend that he was. Next to him, his sister gave in to terror. "I don't want to die, Ryou…" His voice was a whisper.

"It's too bad, though, because I've brought you here for a reason. But I'll be kind, even if you were never to me. I will let you die slowly, so you can live as long as possible."

Horror grew on Jounouchi's face as he began to fully understand his words, but just like the Pharaoh had, he did not try to run when he was unlocked from his manacles that bound him to the ground. Reaching into his pocket, Ryou flipped open a small knife, and pressed its cold metal to his lips.

"Kiss it."

And Jounouchi did, without any sort of hesitation.

Smiling, Ryou nodded, and pressed it, at first, gently to his wrist before pushing in deep just like Touzouku had. Jounouchi screamed, and Mariku watched as his sister did as well, her eyes going wide in terror as her brother's wrists were slit. She screamed his name over and over, shrieking as Ryou slit the other one. Jounouchi was silent after the initial shock, but held himself up, almost waiting for death. He moved to his sister, and wrapped his arms around his as well as he could, his hands almost half way cut off of his wrists.

Blood stained their clothes as Ryou watched in contentment at the scene. Jounouchi hugged her, kissed her forehead, and although his words were not audible, Mariku knew that he promised to her that everything would be fine. Even when Ryou shoved him away and took her head in his hands.

"You're suffering, aren't you?" So childlike. Shizuka continued to sob as her eyes widened. "Your brother is, too, isn't he? Would you like me to end it? I can end it all- I'm very nice, after all. It's okay, you can just tell me. I don't expect you to be strong."

She was torn, terrified, but her mind was frayed from seeing horrors that did not cope well with the human brain. Darting her eyes to her brother back to Ryou's face, she sobbed and gave in, giving her answer.

Nodding his head in agreement, Ryou turned to look back down at Jounouchi, who was almost dead from blood loss, and stared back with dull eyes. Turning back to Shizuka, Ryou smiled in a way that, by anyone else, would have been reassuring. Kissing her forehead like Jounouchi had done to mock the situation, he gripped the bottom of her chin and the back of her head. Realization only dawning just then on the rest of them, Mariku merely closed his eyes as he listed to the snap of the bones in her neck.

Ryou let go, and her body was stiff. Her head lolled down and she collapsed onto the floor. Jounouchi, who he had not been watching, no longer moved, and Mariku assumed that he had given in, unable to live with the death of his sister on his conscience.

After that, Mariku was no longer interested. He watched with dull eyes as Ryou moved from person to person down the line. He kept the crying girl, Anzu, and the one with brown hair as well, Honda, but rid himself of the rest. Seto, he gouged out his eyes, and Mokuba, his tongue, and left them to take hold in each other's company, but unable to truly converse. They were left to live, but Mariku knew that they would die slowly from depression. Mai, he slit open her stomach, and jabbed the knife in through her low abdomen and asked her if it was the longest she had ever had. There were others, others that he did not know, who Ryou killed. They cried as well, begged, but he showed no mercy.

This was Ryou's world. It was what he wanted, his perfect Utopia. It was a painting, a portrait, and the artist's brush painted sorrow across the canvass, switching to terror, and adding bits of anguish to the open spaces where only depression lay as the base. Nothing that they could say, could please with, would stop him from finishing his master piece. And yet, he left Yuugi alive. The last one falling to Ryou's feet, their face a gouged mess of hanging flesh and ripped away jaw, he smiled. There was… one left.

One last person left alive.

And Malik froze inside Mariku's mind.

_His sister._

"So…" Ryou's shoes were once again the only sound able to be heard. "Quiet, eh? Typical, I don't know what had come over you all to be so silent. I like screams, you know."

Isis kept her head down, her expression blank. She kneeled as if praying, and did not raise her head for Ryou. Mariku knew that she was not scared of him, and if she was, that she would not show it. Inside his mind, Malik began to scream and bang his fists against the walls that kept him restrained.

"I will not scream for you, Ryou. You will not kill me. I have done nothing to you. You've mutilated my brother, killed Rishid to keep Malik's dark side alive, but you will not hurt me- I know you won't."

Ryou stared down at her for a moment before becoming angry. He stuttered a bit before slapping her on the cheek. The slap was audible, but she did not respond to it, even if though it stung.

"F-Fool! Don't talk to me as if you know the future! You are not bound to the Tauk anymore- it's mine! I will kill you, and I'll be damned if you talk to me as you are now!"

"Then do so, Ryou. You tell me that you will kill me, but I see no motivation other then to object to my words. Just like a child, Ryou."

Again taken aback, Ryou's anger only increased, and he flipped back open the knife that he had used before. Isis, this time, flinched and faltered as if not so sure anymore that what he had said was true. Grabbing her by the hair and pressing the knife next to her neck, her eyes became terrified, and Ryou started to push in, the skin not yet breaking.

"Ryou!"

He stopped when his name was called, and Mariku wondered if it was him who had spoken, or Malik. Malik was screaming within his mind, and Mariku was the ventriloquist.

Ryou paused, tensed, and when he looked over his shoulder, Mariku physically recoiled at his expression.

"Keep quiet, Mariku, I told you not to speak. Don't make me punish you."

He glared at him for a while longer, before turning back to Isis, who was looking over at him. She looked at Mariku, but her eyes went right through him to Malik.

'_Don't let him kill her, Mariku, please! Mariku, please! Save her! She's all that I have! P-Please Mariku, save her!'_

And Malik begged. Even through all of his hatred, his anger, the misery that Malik had caused him, Mariku could not deny him it. Malik was his creator, his… god. Malik was him, and he was Malik. Malik's pain was his own, and Mariku was tired of death. With Isis's death would come the death of Malik, and then… He would truly be alone…

"Ryou, please, stop! Ryou, Ryou!" He moved forward so that he kneeled upon the floor. Calling out his name over and over, Ryou, eventually, stopped any movement and merely listened to his pleas. But still, he did not let up the pressure on her neck.

"Ryou, dammit, tell him to shut up!" It was Bakura, who spoke, and Mariku almost forgot of.

Ryou turned back towards him one last time, but this time, stood, and let go of Isis's hair, taking away the knife, and letting her gasp for air. Walking towards him, Mariku shuddered and scooted back just a bit, scared of Ryou's reaction, and terrified of the knife in his hand.

"I told you to be quiet, Mariku, did I not?" Ryou's voice was cold, no longer innocent as he kneeled in front of him. "If you can't control yourself, pet, then perhaps-"

"Ryou…" Mariku dug himself his own grave as he cut him off. But there was one thing on his mind, and one thing only. "Ryou… I will do whatever it takes for you not to kill Malik's sister. Please, Ryou. I will do anything. Just don't- don't hurt her, don't hurt him. Please, Ryou." He knew how Ryou worked, and kept himself menial, pressing himself up against Ryou's body.

Ryou looked away, not touching him back as Mariku kissed his chest in a sort of offering. Turning his head back to him, Ryou shoved him away, but also put something cold in his hands. Looking down, Mariku looked quickly back up to Ryou in confusion at the knife in his hands.

"You say you'll do anything, Mariku? Well, then, let's make a trade. One life- for another. I want you to kill Yuugi."

His eyes widened a fraction, and for a moment, he froze. Killing came natural to him. But… not now. Mariku had lost everything, even though he had little to begin with. But he had gained humanity, and the prospect of murder weighed heavily on his mind. But Malik was at the front of his mind, now, screaming for him to take over and to kill him. And so, Mariku agreed.

He stood shakily, allowing Ryou to help him up and taking his remaining hand. His feet were numb as he walked over to the lone figure in the middle of the room with his previous friends laying bleeding, mutilated, and dead around him. Stopping in front of him, Mariku said nothing.

"It's okay…" Yuugi's voice was soft and small. He was the one who was truly like a child, not Ryou. Ryou was just an actor. "I have… nothing left… Not my friends or the Pharaoh. He told me that it would come to this, and we made our goodbyes, but still…" He knew he was crying, but still did not say anything. "You still have someone left. Or I guess, Malik does, I don't know… Mariku, do it. Just kill me."

There was a rush of emotions. It was if the artist who had been creating the portrait of terror reverted to automatism and began to splash buckets of colors against the canvas. It all came at him in a rush, everything loud and a bedlam of thoughts. Malik was screaming at him, screaming at him, telling him to do it, begging him to let him take over. He couldn't do it, he couldn't do it, there was no way he could do it. Yuugi kneeling at his feet, crying, CRYING, CRYING, AND MALIK WAS SCREAMING AND YELLING AND PLEADING AND THE TURMOIL-

Mariku heard a thud.

He looked down with dull eyes to see Yuugi's head at his feet.

Mariku dropped the knife at his feet, staring at it at blood began to pour from Yuugi's open neck. It was too much. He couldn't handle it, any of it. The amputation, murder, Ryou, Malik-

He gave up.

Mariku gave up.

"Isis!" Malik awoke with a start, the first thing able to be felt being the blood that covered his hands. He was sobbing, he knew, hysterical, but it all didn't register in his mind. His mind was still clouded from his dark, but he knew only one thing, and rushed to his sister.

She was all that the world was, anymore, and he felt the first bit of hope as he embraced her tightly. His terror, Ryou, everything that he had watched through Mariku's eyes extirpated as he held his sister. His sister was still alive, he could live. He could survive. She was crying, too, and her clothes were stained with the blood he had brought with him.

Nothing else mattering, Malik cried harder as he felt Ryou's fingers travel through his hair, and jerking on the leash that he had used to bind Mariku with.

* * *

**Reviews are appreciated.**


	10. Part 1o

Inside Malik's mind, it was turmoil. Complete and utter bedlam. His mind was a government that had been overthrown by anarchy. No law, no order. Just chaos. Rushing, roaring, unimaginable noise as his heartbeat reached his ears. His breathing, his heartbeat, his terror. His senses were overloaded. Malik's throat felt dry. It was hard enough to regain his body from Mariku's control, but dealing with _this_ put that pain to shame.

_This._

_Ryou._

_Malik_ remembered it all. Mariku might not have, but Malik did. That night, the surgery, as Ryou put it. His choice of words were sick. It was not surgery, it was mutilation. Malik knew who Ryou truly was, and Malik was _scared_. He wasn't stupid enough to not accept it, unlike Mariku, and so Malik was at a loss.

He was hundreds of miles from his home.

He had been mutilated and experimented on.

He was alone in a locked room with no way out.

Malik's hand stayed on his head, continually pulling his hair as he paced with wide eyes back and forth in front of the windows. Back and forth back and forth back and forth. It was strange how Malik's terror worked, compared to Mariku's. Mariku broke down all too easily, even though Malik had gone through the true hell. Then again, Malik had been subjected to terror his entire life. Mariku had not. It wasn't that he was calm in the face of panic and fear, but Malik knew he was beaten.

Still, he paced. He knew where he was, but he was still confused. He had seen what had happened through Mariku's eyes, although the picture had always been blurred. This was- his room, wasn't it? The idea was humiliating. Mariku was supposed to save him, and yet he let him become even more under Ryou's control.

The room was hot, the setting sun blaring through the windows, trapping the heat like a greenhouse. Everything was plunged into orange. Malik's hyperventilation made everything seem even hotter.

Because he didn't know. He didn't know. He didn't know what to do. His sister- Mariku- _RYOU, his sister,_himself, death death PAIN his arm-… Malik's mind hurt. It hurt even more when he would pass his reflection in the mirror and see himself with only one arm. A freak. His body; deformed. Malik collapsed onto the floor, his eyes continually wide as he breathed heavily and sweat from hysteria, never screaming.

He remembered the night. He remembered being upon the operating table, strapped down as the saw came into his line of vision, joining Ryou's face as he smiled down at him. He remembered the terror, the absolute anguish. He remembered being hopeless. Hopeless. Hopeless against Mariku's control over his body, and hopeless against Ryou who held him down. The complete lack of _power_ as he threw his head back and let go of pure agony when the blade first met his arm. Screaming had not been an effective way to portray the pain he had felt. And he remembered Ryou's pleasure from it all.

It had gone black, after that. Weeks of blackness, barely living as Mariku was in control of his body. He knew what was going on, but could not see or feel or comprehend it, he just _knew._ Weeks of suffering, of Mariku's suffering. It had made Malik's soul wither. Day after day after day, and then- and then Ryou had started killing. The Pharaoh, his friends, all of them. All of them. And then- and then his sister.

That, Malik remembered the most clearly. His sister's face, through Mariku's eyes. And he couldn't handle it. Somehow, the darkness lifted, and Malik was plunged into the real world, his body back. There was blood on his hands, Yuugi's decapitated body at his feet. Then there was his sister as he ran to her, clung to her. His sister, his sister. Malik remembered his sister. She would save him. He needed his sister. He remembered her face, terrified, but lifted when he touched her.

A minute, maybe. A minute was all he got of the reunion. A minute where he did not hurt, where his family and familiarity washed away all of the pain and fear. Malik had screamed when someone had grabbed him, pulling him away from her. He screamed, and he cried. He _cried._ Too many emotions, too much to handle and he _cried._ He didn't know who was pulling him from his sister, but he saw Ryou. He saw Ryou standing there, in front of him, and he felt cold. Immediately cold all over. He had not come face to face with Ryou since the amputation, and Malik immediately froze up.

Ryou's eyes pierced through him, made him stiff as he was dragged away. His eyes paralyzed him, a cobra enticing it's prey before sinking it's fangs into its neck. Ryou, his face, his presence, his _power;_it left Malik unable to function. And so he was dragged away, his mind only running over the face of his sister, and the face of his tormenter as he was flung into his room.

That was it, that was all of Malik's memories, everything he remembered. Life had been stolen from him, both from Mariku and from Ryou. And he didn't know what to _do._ He was _terrified, petrified,_ and there was no way out. Caged, like an animal. When cornered, a coyote would chew off it's own leg. Cornered, Malik could only break down and hyperventilate. His limb had already been taken from him. He was defenseless, and there was nowhere to run.

'I have to wait for him.' Malik's mind ached as he realized it. Wait for him, wait for Ryou to come. Because when Ryou came… he could kill him, escape, anything. He could persuade him, he could trick him. Ryou was the reason why he was here, and the only way he could leave. But still, it terrified him. He didn't want to see him, didn't want to be anywhere near him. Malik knew Ryou's capabilities. He would kill him- no, he would _torture_him. _Mutilate_ him, _abuse_him, but he would never give him the satisfaction of death. Ryou wanted him alive.

Malik's realization made only a heavier weight in his mind. The weights piled up one by one on a single, flimsy board. The amputation, his sister, his vulnerability, and now the prospect that his pain would never end. The board felt like it would snap in half at any moment, and Malik's psyche would then crumble to rubbish, and he knew that he would be crushed to death underneath it.

Petrified, Malik kneeled and bent over, touching his forehead to the ground as he sobbed and continued to pull his hair with his one remaining hand. He squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could. He was scared, so scared. Malik was used to fear. Fear of his father, of his own insanity, but Ryou? _Ryou_? Quiet, shy, innocent _Ryou_? It mocked him and everything he had gone through, that _Ryou_ would be the one in the end who would destroy him. Scared, so scared-

"You don't know what's happening, do you?"

Malik gasped, his eyes shooting open as he immediately reared back. He lifted himself too fast and fell backwards with a thud. Not caring, he immediately scrambled backwards and hyperventilated harder, wanting to cry. He hadn't heard the door open he hadn't heard the door open he hadn't- he was going to die die die _die._

Ryou smiled down at him. His eyes were cold, very, very cold. He made a move to reach out to him, and Malik sobbed, scooting farther into the corner of the room. Ryou laughed, throwing his head back as he watched Malik's show of terror. Laughter dying down, Ryou exhaled loudly. Malik's insides went cold as he started to walk, expecting him to try and reach him. Instead, Malik's fear lessened an iota when Ryou simply walked over to sit on the bed in the middle of the room. His heart beat did not settle.

For a while, Malik wasn't sure what to do. Ryou merely sat there, in front of him, staring at him as he shifted his knees to his chest, trying to make himself appear smaller. His hand left his hair, pieces of his bangs falling into his chest as he wrapped his arm around himself, holding onto his amputated stump. The feeling of it was sickening, morbid, but he felt a tiny bit safer when he held himself. Pathetic as Ryou continued to study him. Malik squeezed his eyes shut. Hell, hell.

"You're better at handling fear then Mariku is."

It was such a simple observation. And it made him feel like such an animal, a specimen that could be observed. He felt sick.

"But actually, when I think about it, it would make sense." Ryou's voice was languid, relaxed. It was like he was making simple small talk. It horrified him. "_You_already know what fear is. Mariku doesn't. It's funny, though, since he's the _insane_ one, the_murderer._But here you are, Malik, and you haven't screamed or cried once."

Malik said nothing, only choked on his dry sobs as he continued to try and make himself smaller. He scooted himself farther and farther into the corner, hiding his face, hiding every bit of himself from Ryou as he could. He wanted to escape. He was so menial. He had reverted back to instinct.

Ryou didn't say anything for a long while, after that. Malik's hyperventilation was the only noise in the room. Sometimes his voice would crack just a bit and become higher, and he would sob harder. He hated himself for his behavior, but he couldn't help it. There was no way of dealing with the horror. He was left alone with himself to cope with things that nobody should ever experience.

Alone, with Ryou.

Ryou. _Ryou._ No matter how much he thought about it, Malik never got over it. _Ryou._Innocent, exploitable _Ryou._ The same Ryou who Bakura had taken over, who he had bartered for his body with Bakura. It wasn't right. It just wasn't right. It was truly surreal. Morphing, surreal images and ideas that forced themselves through his collapsing mind. But Malik was growing tired. Terror had made him exhausted.

"You don't have to be scared." Ryou's voice was unwelcome after the long period of one sided silence. Malik moved his head just a bit to study him. His eyelids felt heavy. He didn't know what emotion to feel.

Ryou had remained sitting the entire time, but had leaned to the side just a bit to rest against the headboard. His eyes weren't warm, but they weren't cold either. It was a neutral expression. Malik didn't trust it.

"You're not going to feel any pain. My motive isn't set on you. You don't have to be scared."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was sick. The way he was playing with his emotions, his _life._ Malik knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to lure him into a feeling of fake security, only to pull the rug right out from underneath his feet and have him fall hard to the floor. He wouldn't take the bait. Malik narrowed his eyes and said nothing.

"…" Ryou paused, still looking at him. He seemed put off from his lack of response. "I don't want to hurt you. I have no intention of hurting you. You are the prize, and I'm not going to hurt you more then I already have. It was mandatory, for Mariku. You felt the pain but it won't happen again. There would be no reason for me to- You're not going to believe me, are you?"

Malik narrowed his eyes farther. "No." He would only say one word. His heart beat fear every time he breathed. This was a new sort of game, and Malik wasn't sure how to play. One wrong move and he could fall to Game Over. Then again, Ryou was god over the game; he held all the cheat codes. He could kill him without any trouble.

"At least you're not naïve, Malik. Mariku would have jumped on the idea. He takes solace in any sort of affection that's sent his way. Its sad, don't you think? Why do you hurt yourself that's Mariku, Malik? Why do you deny him everything except suffering?" Ryou was smiling now. A small smile, one that fit to his personality better then anything else. Small, but ominous.

What _was_ this game? A game of dialogue? Smooth words strung together to try and get the greatest reaction from him? Malik didn't know, and Malik would play carefully. The stump of his left arm hurt very bad and very suddenly. Malik hid his pain and held onto it tighter.

"What I do," Malik said, his voice forced through turmoil, "to counter my dark side is none of your business." He remembered a time so very short ago that his words would have held menacing undertones. Malik mourned for the loss of that time.

Ryou looked amused, but his expressions remained light, never turning dark. "None of my business? Well, Malik." He laughed. "A very untrue statement, but I suppose you're right. Though, that's what makes playing with your mind so fun. Right now, I'm talking to Malik. Hours before, it was Mariku. What caused the switch, pet? See… this is what I want to know. This is why I won't hurt you."

"Hurt me!?" Malik became suddenly mad, leaning forward just a bit, his eyes sharp. He was treading thin water. "HURT ME!? Look what you've done to me! Look what you've done! How can you say you haven't hurt me!? And for what reason, your own entertainment!?"

Again Ryou laughed, mocking him. Malik felt menial. "Entertainment! Aha, Malik! You did the exact same thing during Duelist City. Because that's what you did, wasn't it? Toyed with people using your power? If it was so okay then, why is it wrong for me to do it now? Was it because of your 'horrible past'?" Ryou's tone of voice became higher, as if to mock him. "But you know nothing about me. You know nothing about my reasoning or motives. You know nothing about the _hell_ I went through, the _hell_ I lived through."

Malik didn't look at Ryou's face, only noticing how his hands gripped the comforter of the bed so suddenly and hard. This was dangerous. Malik wasn't sure of the stability of Ryou's mind, and wondered how he could even doubt it after what he had witnessed.

"But." He paused, his fists loosening as he calmed. "But I'm telling the truth. Because really, Malik, when have I ever lied."

Ryou smiled then, so malicious in nature that Malik was again struck to the core. Ryou had a way with expression, working his face so that Malik could feel every subtle message he was trying to portray. Again, Malik was frozen. His heart beat fast, but as if there was a lapse of time between each beat. Thump… thump… thump… He was entranced by Ryou's narrowed eyes, and his words behind them.

Had he lied? He had never lied. Not once had he lied. From the beginning, Ryou had only spoken the truth. Ryou had been an actor before, playing the role as the Ryou he _thought_ he knew. Those had been lies, and now that the role was dropped and the true actor stepped away from the spotlight, he never lied.

Ryou had said he had won. It was the truth. Ryou had said he would amputate his arm. It was the truth. Ryou had said he would bend his mind. Mariku's presence confirmed the truth. Truth. Truth. Truth. Ryou never lied, and Malik was lost. He never lied, but he couldn't believe him. Couldn't believe that he wouldn't hurt him, after the- after the _hell_ he had put him through. Malik clenched his arm.

But he wanted to. He wanted so very badly to believe him, that he wouldn't be hurt. That he could help himself away from the pathetic thing he had been reduced to. But he was wary. Malik had always been wary. He was a duelist: he made calculations, strategized. He didn't trust blind faith, and never had.

"I haven't, have I? And really, Malik… what other choice do you have other then to trust me?" Ryou's smiles were so filled with such diluted venom.

There was another period of silence, then. Malik said nothing, refused to speak, still terrified, although it had lessened just a bit. And Ryou continued to study him, watching his every move. After a while, the British boy shifted, moving over to the middle of the bed so that his legs hung over the side. He patted the space he had just made next to him.

"Come here."

Malik blinked. Was he… insane? He had already asked himself the same question, and Malik didn't know what answer to come up with. He wanted to say yes, but there was something about him that seemed sane. Too sane. Ryou's every move, every word was planned, calculated. His mind seemed stable, although his actions were not. Either way, the sheer idea of being in close proximity with him was instantly rejected.

Realizing that he had been rejected, Ryou's face became slightly annoyed. Malik was wary of his changing emotions. He said he would not hurt him, but…

"I told you to come here. It was Mariku who was in control when I taught you that you _listen_ to me, but you should know by now that when I say something, I mean it."

He was torn. Very, very torn. On one hand, it would save him mental torment to just give in. On the other, well, Malik didn't need to finish his sentence. He stared at Ryou, chewing his lip as he debated what to do, feeling suddenly sad as he rubbed his arm.

Slowly, Malik closed his eyes and exhaled, standing up. He didn't want to. He didn't want to move or get up or give in or anything that would show weakness. But he was scared, and would try to save himself as much as possible. Malik breathed heavier as he tentatively stepped towards him. His chest hurt. He was _scared._ So unbelievably _scared._ It was like he had been suffering from dehydration, and the fear was water as he eagerly gulped it down. It was cold, and it spread quickly throughout his body, able to feel everywhere that the fear went as it stayed heavy inside his system.

But Ryou had grown tired of his trepidation. As Malik struggled with himself over whether or not he should continue, his question was answered for him as Ryou suddenly moved forward and grabbed him. Malik's eyes went wide, and tried to scream, but Ryou slapped his hand over his mouth. Holding onto his arm and one hand over his mouth, Ryou had trouble subduing his struggling. Malik thrashed, trying to escape, his mind filled with horrors of what Ryou would do to him. Scared, scared, he was so scared. Ryou was _touching_ him. Ryou, who had destroyed his life. Touching, touching, touching!

And then Malik was still and felt suddenly calm. He couldn't move. But he didn't really mind. He was calm. So calm. He wasn't afraid. Nothing really mattered. He felt as if he had been put under a drug. The rod, he realized faintly, in the back of his mind. Ryou had used the rod on him. But he didn't really care, couldn't really think. It was all very hazy as Ryou led him back to the bed and sat him down.

He was trapped between Ryou and the headboard of the bed as he sat on it with his legs over the edge. Ryou was talking, but Malik couldn't hear well. Something about his reaction. Something, something like that… Ryou was touching him, then. Fussing with his clothes, pulling his shirt down where it had ridden up, rebuttoning the vest Mariku had been earlier, touching his face as if to calm him. He did feel calm, though. He hadn't known the rod made the victim feel so… mellow. Malik couldn't exactly think, but he realized that it couldn't, and Ryou had done something else to him.

"Just be calm, okay?" Oh, he had understood that… "Don't be hysterical. Don't hyperventilate or scream or try to get away. Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise."

Malik looked at him through half lidded eyes, not understanding what was happening. But the haze started to lift, then, and Malik felt very suddenly connected to the world. Very suddenly, he realized that he was sitting next to Ryou, and that Ryou was holding onto his arm. His eyes widened as he made to suck in a very large breath before Ryou's eyes narrowed and covered his mouth once again. He was petrified, but Malik did not scream, just stared down at him as his heart regained it's now usual tempo.

Eventually Ryou's hand left his mouth, and Malik kept his lips sealed shut. He was completely still, too scared to even attempt to move. Ryou could turn on him at any minute, after all. He was a sadist. A true sadist. He was acting strange now. Kind, like he had been during Duelist City and the Battle City Finals, but Malik now knew better. It was a façade, a charade. A travesty trying to deceive him into believing fake innocence. Malik felt sick again as Ryou rubbed his arm. He exhaled sharply and shakily.

"If you breathe deeper, oxygen enters the blood stream and distributes proteins to biochemical pathways. Breathing deeper makes you calmer. Breathing deeper keeps pain away, lactic acid. Believe me, Malik, I know. I know better then anyone how to keep pain at bay. So breathe, Malik."

Malik closed his eyes, feeling humiliated and beaten. And somehow sad. So very, very sad. Malik wasn't sure that he had yet fully realized all that he had lost. He mourned in preparation. Listening to Ryou, he inhaled slowly, sucking air in and not letting go until he felt his lungs would burst. Malik exhaled like a smoker: slow and even. If Malik was a smoker, then pain was his nicotine. He repeated the process.

"See… You feel better, don't you? You're less scared, more calm." Although Ryou smiled, Malik didn't trust his eyes. There was something still so fundamentally wrong about the situation. Ryou was a murderer, a sadist, an actor. This could be just another screen play that he was acting out. Malik, none the less, nodded to Ryou's question, sadness leaking in to crevices that pain and fear used to fill. "That's good. I don't want you hysterical."

The feeling of Ryou's hand on his arm made him sick. It also reminded him of his power over him; he could rid him of that arm just as easily as he did the first. Malik shifted, growing more uncomfortable and nervous along with the ever present fear.

"Now…" Ryou's voice held a tone of business to it, as if he expected him to listen carefully. "You want explanations. You want retribution. You want revenge. I know what you want, I know what you're thinking. I know how scared you are, how degraded you feel, how pathetic. You don't understand, either, why I'm doing this, why I'm doing any of it to you. After all, we have never spoken before, have we?" Ryou paused. "But I'm not giving answers. Not now, anyway. Those come later, after you figure them out for yourself. But I will tell you what I want…

I want my world. I want death. I want suffering, pain, anguish of humanity as it begs me for mercy, relief, and forgiveness. I want _my_ retribution. I want pay back for- …everything. You know people, Malik, the evil that everyone holds inside of them. That's why I'm starting over with my world, this world that I'm creating. I'm making it better, all of it. Where no one hurts each other and there is no pain. I want it so that no one has to suffer at the hands of another person, where there are no adulterated thoughts inside anybody. You see, though, to start new, you have to cleanse the bad out. _Purge_ it.

And the bad… I want them to suffer. I want _them_ to make up for humanity's suffering. Every. Little. _THING._ They've ever done to anybody." Ryou's nails dug into Malik's arm and side as he spoke with gritted teeth. Malik's heart reminded him that it was there as it beat again faster. "But… I want to know why. I've always wanted to know why. Why is there a core evil at the center of humanity. If I start over, will suffering ever be truly eradicated? That's why you're here, why I need you. You- Mariku-… I want to know how the mind works, how it truly works. I want to pick apart at you until only you remain. I want to know to base of Mariku's evil, how it works, why he functions, and how he can live inside you. And I want to_torture_ him. I want him to _suffer_ for his state of mind, his- his- _inhumanity._"

Again, Ryou became ahead of himself as he gripped Malik tighter. Malik bit his lip, terrified to express the pain as Ryou's fingernails dug into his skin.

"Because-… Because he's so much like _him._ So much like him that it hurts… You're innocent, though. You're the innocent factor, abused by Mariku, by yourself, helpless to stop anything and all you ask yourself is why, why, why would this be happening to me?" Ryou's breath caught in his throat. "…So I'm not going to hurt you, I wouldn't hurt you. At the end, I want you. I want to break Mariku down until only you remain. I want, no, _need_ to know why humans create evil and hatred inside themselves to be able to create Utopia."

"Then why did you kill the Pharaoh, everyone there. They were not evil, _they_ were good, _they_ were trying to stop you." 'And myself', Malik thought to himself, feeling a slight twinge in his chest.

Ryou paused, his eyes wide as he stared down to his lap, but not really seeing anything. "B-Because…." His eyes darted back and forth. For the first time, Ryou looked lost, scrambling to try and find a simple answer for the horrors he had created. "B-because…! BECAUSE I HATED THEM! I HATED THEM SO MUCH! I WANTED TO KILL THEM I WANTED THEM TO BLEED I WANTED THEM TO HURT AND SUFFER AND _DIE._ I WANTED THEM DEAD! I WANTED THEM TO BE GONE AND EVERYTHING TO BE PERFECT LIKE IT USED TO BE! I HATED THEM! THEIR BLOOD AND DEATH AND BLOOD AND- I HATED THEM!"

Oh. Oh, this was what he had been scared of. Oh, this was why Malik feared for his life. Oh, this was why the part of him that was Mariku had been reduced to such pathetic behavior. _This. Ryou. This_was Ryou. Malik recoiled instantly, pressing himself flat up against the headboard. This, though, had not been the reaction Ryou had wanted, and only made him more angry and hysterical.

"WHAT, WHAT, MALIK!? WHAT'S WRONG, I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING, I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!" He grabbed onto his shoulders and shook him. Horror was pounding into his skull. "I DIDN'T DO IT, I DIDN'T DO IT I SWEAR I DIDN'T. I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING DON'T YOU BELIEVE ME!? I DIDN'T HURT THEM, I DIDN'T I JUST FIXED THEM! I MADE THEM ALL BETTER! I MADE EVERYONE HAPPY, H-HAPPY MALIK HAPPY!? WHY ARE YOU AFRAID. WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!? WHY, MALIK, WHY!? WHY!?"

And then Ryou sobbed. His face twisted into a look of complete pain and guilt, Ryou just stared at him before suddenly grabbing his shirt and crying into his chest. Horrible, loud, wet sobs as he shook before him, holding onto him. And Malik didn't know what to do. He never knew what to do. Malik would be the supporting beam so long as he didn't have to move.

Ryou cried. He cried and cried and cried. For a very long time. He moved closer to him, trying to hold onto him. Malik faltered, but allowed him to push him against the headboard and hold him as he cried into his shirt. He had no choice, after all. Confused, Malik was horribly confused. Ryou's emotions changed quickly and very easily. They were promiscuous, and no emotion ever stayed very long, always moving to a different one. Malik dreaded Ryou's next mood.

"I didn't mean to, Malik, I-I didn't. I-I really didn't but I couldn't help myself. He w-was just- and for so long, Malik, I- I couldn't live like that. I didn't- I didn't- I couldn't take it anymore. And there was so much b-blood. So much wonderful blood and I-I thought, I thought 't-this is what it is. T-this is why."

It went on like that for a long time. Ryou's words, none of which Malik understood, and Ryou's crying. He seemed like a child. Ryou was the child who bullied with a smile on their face the entire way through. But still, somehow very innocent. Even after the atrocities he committed, there was still an innocence to him. And maybe that was why he played the part so well… Acting comes from experience.

"…I'm not going to hurt you." He had been quiet and stopped crying for a while and had rolled over onto the bed next to him. Ryou stared up at the ceiling. "Not you, Mariku. You haven't done anything."

"…Is Isis okay?" Malik spoke softly. The question had been hanging over his conscious, and the anticipation of his answer made him feel sick.

Ryou exhaled sharply and closed his eyes. "…Yes."

"…Is Rishid?"

"No." His answer was abrupt. "He's dead. I killed him first. To keep Mariku alive."

"…" Malik was silent. He had known, but hearing it brought realization back. Rishid was dead… His brother… Everything he had done for him. Malik realized where his sadness had come from. He was too exhausted to mourn. Inside, he bled.

"…My arm is gone." It was such a simple statement, but it portrayed more then enough. Malik squeezed his eyes shut.

"I know." His reply came a bit later that time.

"…It hurts. It's disgusting. I hate you."

"I know."

They both lay next to each other in bed. The orange of the sun had started to recede, making contrasting yellow and purple lights across the room. Malik felt drained of energy, numb to the world. He wished he knew what the narcotic was so that he could use it again.

"I'm never letting you go."

And it was Malik's turn to reply. "I know."

* * *

**Malik seems to be more strong then Mariku, because, like Ryou said, Mariku has never encountered fear before. Also, since Malik and Mariku are the same person, they will have the same reactions and emotions in situations with limited possibilities.**

**Reviews are appreciated.**


	11. Part 11

**It's really hard to get into the mood of writing when an ice cream truck got in a wreck right outside your house, and the music they play can't turn off.**

* * *

"I want to see Isis."

That was what he had said, after he and Ryou had laid together for a long while. Ryou, who had been fiddling with Malik's shirt, had paused. He looked away, and Malik could see him thinking. Shifting, Ryou had rolled onto his stomach, supporting himself up with his forearms.

"I suppose I can allow you that. It wouldn't hurt anything. I don't want to hurt you."

He repeated that. Over and over.

_I don't want to hurt you._

Ryou had left, eventually, and Malik was left alone to sit in the room that Ryou had imprisoned him in. Mariku's room. And it was dark, now. Malik was scared. He was scared of the dark, of being alone, the fear of what could lie in dark corners and mysterious shadows. But, his fear… Was he truly scared anymore? Mariku had been his greatest terror, his sheer weight in his mind able to take his breath away. Now, though… Now, Mariku protected him. Like before. There was no world left to take over, no sadism left for Mariku to prey on.

Who was Mariku? Without hatred, what did Mariku have to feed off of? Nothing. …Nothing? Had he become Malik? Had Mariku become himself? But no. The weight remained, those little movements in the back of his mind. Mariku was alive, but Mariku was bleeding, suffering, and clinging onto life by one single thing.

Instinct.

Hatred was no longer at the forefront of Mariku's emotions. Instead, it was the foundation. Upon hatred built his terror, his instinct, and the hope that he would someday regain dominance. Ryou, though, was slowly crushing it.

Oh. Ryou. Always, always Ryou. Was Malik still afraid of the dark? Yes, he was, but not for the same reasons. Ryou was his fear, now. Ryou was terror. Ryou was what lurked in shadows and dark corners. Ryou brought fear. Ryou had brought him back to reality. And for that, he had him to thank, or at least, acknowledge. Malik's terror was no longer within his mind, but in the form of a physical being. Malik almost missed his insanity.

Malik sat up straight, moving from the position he had been laying in. He twisted a piece of the blanket in his hand. His hand, his one _single_ hand. His amputation was not something he wanted to deal with, so he did not think about it much. That was Mariku's job. Mariku protected him, after all.

Still, it was awkward. He felt imbalanced. With the weight of his left arm gone, he moved awkwardly, used to having weight on his left side. Malik found that he now tilted just a slight bit to the right, when he was not thinking. He frowned at this, making sure to sit up straighter, folding his legs underneath himself.

He was still wearing the outfit from earlier that day, and Malik looked down at the blood that had splattered across his vest. That had been Yuugi's blood. It had turned slightly brownish. Funny, how it all worked out. Malik no longer had anyone to kill. It made him uneasy, though, and Malik rubbed his hand across it, to see if it would fade out just a bit. When it didn't, Malik slowly started to unbutton the vest. He didn't want the blood of his enemy on himself. It reminded him that everything he had lived for was now null and void. Ryou had killed the pharaoh first.

It was slow, unbuttoning his vest. It made him frustrated. The mechanics weren't the same when he only had one hand to use. Malik exhaled exasperatedly, frowning the longer it took. Finally getting the last one undone, Malik shrugged his left shoulder out, and flung it into the middle of the room, where it landed next to a chair. He felt more free. The vest had been a little tight.

Waiting was hard. There was nothing to take his mind off of his thoughts, all of which were the farthest thing from pleasant. He wanted to see his sister, he _needed_ to see his sister. Malik needed comfort, needed to be reminded of what he had left, even if it was very, very small. He felt a need to protect his sister, too. Malik regretted having been on negative turns right before- everything- that- had happened.

Used to the quiet, Malik's head pivoted towards the direction of the door when he heard voices. They grew soft and became louder, footsteps following soon after. They were male, the voices, and Malik grew worried. Were they coming for him? Would they bring pain? But once the voices reached as loud as they could, his door was opened, light pouring into the dark room, and Malik lunged forward off of the bed.

"Sister!"

Isis was thrown inside, no grace present that she usually possessed as she fell to the floor. Malik rushed to her side, terrified that she was hurt, and looked up at the two men who had _accompanied_her. They both looked down at him with hatred, and it left Malik wondering why. He had never even seen them. He wasn't able to think about it much more, as one of them 'humped', and closed the door with force, making a loud bang.

Wincing, Malik's attention turned back onto his sister. His eyebrows furrowed deeply when he saw the state she was in. Ryou said she was okay, but Malik did not agree. There were cuts along her arm, and she was still clothed in the same dress she had worn during Battle City. It was ripped in many areas, big parts of it missing along her side and very close to her breasts, no longer the white color it had been before. And Malik was furious.

"Come on, Isis, I'll help you up…" Although he had prided himself on having power when he had command over the Ghouls, Malik knew that he had never been the pinnacle of physical strength, and it took him a deal of effort to help his taller sister over to his bed. Especially… with his- disability…

Isis was quiet, which made Malik worried as he helped her lay down. Was she hurt more then what he had initially seen? She was conscious, though, and when he made a move to lay his hand on her forehead just to check if she was sick, Malik paused when she took his hand in her own.

"Malik," her voice was rough, and Malik wondered when she had last had anything to drink, "is Mariku still alive?"

Malik's heart thudded loudly and heavily in his chest, his eyes going wide as he looked down at her. She looked back with forced strength, and Malik wavered internally. Why would she ask about Mariku?

"He's…- it doesn't matter." He shook his head, tightening his hand around hers. He didn't know how hurt she was. It looked as if she could lose consciousness any moment. "Who hurt you? Did Ryou hurt you? Do you need water?" Malik was worried, but felt lost, as if he couldn't help her. And truthfully, he knew he really couldn't. Did he not notice her being so hurt, before, when he had regained control of his body?

"No- Ryou didn't. There- was mass confusion and-" She coughed, and Malik grew more worried. She was having trouble speaking. Noticing his worry, she cleared her throat. "Don't worry I'll be fine. But, Malik… You don't know what the world is outside of this building. Ryou has shielded you from everything. The world is in ruins. It's hell, Malik. The Pharaoh is dead- the darkness… Ryou is killing people. Everybody. And nobody can _do_ anything. Not the government, not the military. It's like the ability to rebel is gone."

Malik was shocked, stunned. Ryou had told Mariku about his mass genocides, and remembered seeing rows of people lined up in the streets when Mariku had looked down from the old room, but- he hadn't known that it was actually true, that Ryou's world was _reality._ Malik hadn't even seen it yet.

The words seemed hard for Isis to say, but she continued on after she had breathed for a little while, calming down. "It was right before the finals, I think. The blimp had been ready to land, and there was commotion in the control room. There was screaming over the intercom, and then I remember hearing Bakura's voice. The real one, not the spirit, and everyone had been confused.

'Come up to the deck,' he had said, 'this is an emergency.' And since we had all been very confused, we had did as he had said. We didn't know that he was the one who had caused the screaming from the cabin. But the moment we all moved to the top deck, Ryou was there with a gun and the rod. You were gone, and I could infer he had stolen it from you.

He had told us that we had two choices, hand over our items, or die. The Pharaoh's host had instantly declined, and Ryou threatened to kill one of the staff members, who he had frozen in place with the rod. We had… all thought his threats were empty, because it was just Bakura, just _Bakura,_but no, they weren't, and he pulled the trigger very easily when Yuugi still did not give in.

After that there was a strange calmness as Yuugi handed over his Puzzle, and I my Tauk. He and Kaiba were also forced to let go of their god cards. We were terrified, and had no way of defending ourselves. Kaiba, especially, was worried. His blimp had very high, strict security, and the fact that Ryou had successfully hijacked it was very worrisome. He explained, then, what he had planned to do. Create his own Utopia, kill all those that he deemed unworthy, resurrect the darkness of Zorc… Because he then had all the items, and had told us he had taken the Scale and Key from Shaadi, as well. The Eye, the Ring, the Tauk, the Puzzle, the Rod, the Key, the Scales… He had won, and we were locked away as he set a new course for Egypt. Kul Elna.

Other then Yuugi, we did not accompany him to where he placed the items within the tomb, but we all instantly felt a heavy weight as we realized that he had truly brought darkness onto the world. When he returned, the Pharaoh and Yuugi had been split, and so had he and Bakura. Ryou had not spoken to us, but the Pharaoh and Yuugi had told us everything that I'm telling you now. And once we had arrived in Britain and were finally allowed out of the blimp… there was mass chaos. People screaming and running and crying and _death._ I don't understand _how_ Ryou managed it, but he did. And we were all just pawns…"

Silence stretched long after Isis stopped talking, and Malik looked away, not knowing what to say, or what to feel. As always, Ryou had never lied… But…why? Why, why? _Why_ was he doing this, all of it? What was… _wrong_ with him? Malik was able to ask those questions, because Malik knew what it was like to have something wrong with himself. Ryou was not emotionally stable, and it led Malik to just question why.

He had always asked that. Why. _Why._Life was a series of questions, and he was never given answers. But all he had left was to ask. Malik no longer had power, he no longer had the means to find the answers for himself. All he could do was ask, and wonder._What was wrong with Ryou._

"…We're all pawns, Isis. We're all just pawns in some sick game. Because- because I thought _I_ was the main character. I thought _my_ problems, _my_ insanity outweighed everything else. But in the end? Everything I've gone through, what we've gone through, has just been debunked by a boy we only recently met? We're soldiers, Isis… we don't have a choice other then to just listen to commands given by a military run by a government who we have no direct control over. Either we shoot, or we die. And I don't know what to do, I-I don't know what to do…"

Malik didn't care that his voice wavered, he didn't care that he cried in front of his sister. It was too much, just too much. Malik looked down at his one single hand that he had made into a fist in his lap as tears dripped out of his eyes onto it. They splattered against his skin, and his voice hitched, trying hard not to sob. Too much, too much… It was all just too much. Because it was all so true. He had thought he was so big, that he was everything, but now, in the grand scheme of things, he was so small… All the suffering he had gone through, his insanity, his childhood… it was all for nothing. Who was he, now, other then a single person in a world ruled by a small acquaintance?

"Sh, Malik, it's okay. Come on, Malik, don't cry…"

It was strange, how such immense and sudden suffering had changed their relationship. He had slighted his sister, earlier, had literally fought against her, but now… They were all they had left. They were family.

Isis had always been the stronger one, even though Malik hated to admit it, and Isis was the one to comfort him, not the other way around. He cried, and she held him. That was how it had always been, even if he was the boy. But she was older and more able to handle stress. Eventually, though, when his tears didn't stop, Malik knew that she was crying, too. Silently, without words or sobbing, like him. She cried for Rishid, as well.

"We'll get through this."

"How, Isis."

"How did we ever before?"

"…We didn't. We never did."

That was the last thing said between them as they fell asleep, exhausted, holding each other in the comfort of family and familiarity.

* * *

There was a hand on the side of his head, petting his hair softly and slowly, twirling it around their finger. Malik was felt so soft and warm, never having such a comfortable bed on his boat or the blimp. He felt as if he could sleep his life away, and wished that he could. Waking was the worst part of life.

That hand was soft as well. Very smooth skin, and it felt good against his face. Malik was comforted, and he sighed contently. It was Isis's hand. She was the only one who had skin as soft as that. Her body was warm against his. Malik did not reflect on just exactly why she had slept next to him. That was pain that went with waking.

"Are you awake?"

But that was not her voice, and she did not have a British accent. Malik's body felt cold all over.

"Oh, don't play with me, Malik. You can't sleep the day away. Sleeping is no fun. Carpe Diem. Seize the moment, seize the day. Take advantage of the life that's given to you." Mariku had been right when he thought that everything about Ryou was soft. His voice, his skin, his presence. But Malik knew everything that Mariku did not, and Malik knew that _nothing_ about Ryou was soft. It was all just a disguise to hide his cruel intentions and harsh actions.

Ryou's closeness unnerved him. It worried him as Ryou moved from his sitting position to lay down and scoot up behind him, breathing hotly on the nape of his neck and shoulder. Malik remembered all Ryou had done to him, before the- saw, and Malik stiffened, growing quickly terrified.

"Still sleepy, Malik? Shall I wake you up, pet?"

"No…" Malik's voice seemed to catch in his throat, downright petrified as Ryou's arms wound around him and started unbuttoning his shirt. Malik was not Mariku. Ryou had said he would not hurt him! But- but Ryou had given him a blowjob, _right before he amputated his arm_, and- and had- had _raped_ Mariku. Malik was scared and confused and so very, very lost.

"No? You said that before, too. And then you begged me for more. Or are you like Mariku? Do you need me to make decisions for you? I thought he was the animal, not you."

"N-No! No, I don't! I don't want it, just leave me alone! Leave me alone, Ryou, please just leave me alone. I'm so s-scared. You said you wouldn't hurt me. Don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me. I'm scared, don't hurt me. I don't want it I don't want it, Ryou, Ryou _please_ I'm so scared, n-no…" He had just woken up, and already… this. Was there no end to his torment? How long would he be tortured? Malik was starting to feel empty.

"Sh, no, I'm not going to hurt you. I haven't hurt you, have I? No, I haven't. You know I haven't, you know I won't. I only do this to Mariku, but I just saw you like this, and I want this. So just calm down and lean back on me and enjoy it." He could tell Ryou was smiling as he successfully unbuttoned his shirt and slid his hands up his chest. And it was so sick. So sick, everything he did to him…

Was there any point in trying to resist, though? Was there any possible outcome where he would be let go? There wasn't. He knew there wasn't, and that was what scared him the most. Just… just how helpless was he, truly?

"Please, Ryou… don't…" Malik was such a menial thing. …How horrible would it be, though? Malik had no choice, and it _did_ feel good… It was still sick, though. The overall wrongness was just too much.

"Mm. Don't worry, you'll like it."

Malik was lost as Ryou slowly began kissing his shoulder, his hands staying on his chest before they eventually drifted lower. He didn't seem to be in any particular hurry, taking his sweet time. All of which just prolonged Malik's torture. He was tense all over, his heart beating ungodly fast as his breathe caught in his throat.

Lost, lost. Malik was lost in Ryou's touch. He was defenseless with the ability to fight back. But while he _could_, there would be no point, and that was what was the most demeaning of all. Ryou seemed to understand this, and used the knowledge to his advantage as he didn't touch him hard, but moved his hands soft over his skin. Very soft, as if he was mimicking a ghost.

He whimpered, drawing back into Ryou's chest to try and escape his hands as they started undoing his pants. Ryou's arms were both around him, and Malik was trapped with no where to go, except to farther push himself up against the British boy. He clenched his teeth, scared, unsure. Ryou shushed him, kissing his neck as he undid the button of his pants and pulled down the zipper.

Affection from Ryou was always a strange thing, no matter if it was Mariku or Malik who was in control of the body. It was always something very sudden, and with a definite purpose. Ryou touched him for a reason. Then again, touch and affection were two different things. What Ryou did to Mariku was molestation; there was no other meaning behind it apart from Ryou's own gain and Mariku's extreme objection. But with Malik, Ryou seemed to be softer, and he wasn't sure if Ryou was just trying to please himself, or Malik as well.

"See, you like it. I'm being _good_ to you." Ryou's voice felt thick against him as he moved one of his hands down his pants, rubbing over his, to Malik's horror, beginning of an erection.

Malik exhaled sharply, choking on his own breath as Ryou started to massage him. He moved his hand in a circle, cupping him through his underwear and moving his fingers in a way that was just so _unreal._The building lust that swamped his mind began to be overwhelming, not knowing what he should think or feel. Everything felt _hot_ and he wanted Ryou to touch him more. But he also wanted to be alone very badly. Malik's body won over his mind in the end.

It didn't take long before Ryou worked Malik up to the point where he was rotating his hips against his hand, rubbing against him, all of which made Ryou seem very pleased. His breath was heavy and hot, and his mind was hazy. Nothing really seemed to_matter,_ as if Malik had forgotten everything that had let up to that point. All he wanted was for Ryou to _touch_ him.

The pleasure was becoming unbearable as Ryou teased him horribly, keeping him locked in place against his chest as he jerked him off. And Malik did definitely feel trapped. With no where to go and only wanting Ryou's hand to touch him more, _more!,_Malik couldn't help but to thrust against him, which made Ryou laugh and his face burn.

"You warm up very quickly, I knew you wouldn't say no. We can make this a regular thing if it pleases you that much. Don't hold back, though, if you like it."

Ryou was oddly calm as Malik finally got what he wanted and he slipped his hand beneath his underwear. Malik melted almost instantly, moaning loudly, his eyebrows furrowing as Ryou's hand wrapped around his erection. His single hand clenched the blanket, wringing it until he felt as if it would rip. It was so- relieving. It was so- satisfying. Ryou's hand definitely felt better then it did to masturbate himself.

He writhed against him as Ryou even _still_ continued to tease him. Because although he squeezed him, all he got was pressure, and Ryou's hand didn't pump him or move at all. Ryou's other hand moved to behind Malik's back, and Malik instantly knew what he was doing, and instantly remembered the humiliation and degradation he had originally felt.

Was he no more then an animal? Was he no more then a whore who begged and cried but then begged and cried for more? Would he just throw away all of his self respect just for Ryou to jerk him off? Negative. Malik instantly knew his answers. But- but Ryou's hand felt so _good_, and the second he began to move his hand along him, all of his rejection left his mind.

Malik no longer cared about his self respect, and as Ryou finally began to pump him, Malik moaned appreciatively. His voice was higher then it usually was, staying near the back of his throat as sounds poured out of his mouth. Hot hot, he was so hot and he wanted more and he wanted Ryou to go faster, and Ryou did. Ryou did go faster and Ryou squeezed him harder and Ryou pumped himself faster behind his back and Ryou rubbed his hips up against his backside and Ryou rubbed him with his thumb and index finger and _Ryou!_ Ryou Ryou _Ryou!_

Ryou. Damning, sadistic, twisted, conniving, innocent, soft _Ryou_. All of Ryou, and Malik whimpered against him with his arm amputated and his brother dead and his sister locked away. Malik thrusted against Ryou's hand, and the world suffered under his hand. Ryou had single handedly ruined his life, and now Ryou was the only thing he wanted. Ryou. Damning, sadistic Ryou who composed his pleasure like a piece of music, and Malik's climax was coming very quickly.

Using his palm to rub up the underside of his penis, Ryou moved the head between his middle and ring fingers, smearing his precum down the length of his erection. Malik bit his lip, twisting up even farther against him. Ryou's breath was short and staggered, and he felt hot behind him, the movements of his other hand speeding up the more Malik struggled.

"Ma-lik-" His accent was prominent, and his hand abandoned his hands abandoned both their erections as he wound his arms around his chest. Ryou pressed up hard against him. "Ma-lik you are much _better_. -You- make it _better_- a-and I-! -Oh you are_mine._"

Ryou's hands left him so that he could hold him. Hold him and thrust against him, his lower back. Malik moaned at the loss of friction and attention, again feeling used as Ryou continued to thrust his hips up against him. It was disgusting, just downright disgusting, but Malik couldn't help it, and Malik had been so close and Malik just wanted to _cum_ and-

Speeding suddenly up, Ryou groaned in his ear, and Malik felt him orgasm over his back. He felt instantly sick, realizing what he had let happen, but Malik didn't think of it much when both of Ryou's hands covered with his own semen moved back to his erection. His hips jerked forward and he leaned his head back onto Ryou's shoulder, moaning loudly. That one last bit of stimulation was all he needed, and Malik's eyes rolled up as he came on his stomach and Ryou's hands.

He slumped back onto Ryou, breathing deeply and heavily, exhausted and out of touch with the world. He felt too good to do anything other then to just lay back. Because it just did feel so _good_. Completely satisfied and-

And used.

What had Malik let happen to himself? The revulsion took him over instantly, and Malik wanted to be sick. Ryou pet his hair, sitting up before getting off the bed while Malik stared in abject horror at the cum on himself.

"Clean yourself off, get dressed. I'm taking you outside today."

The incident was never spoken of again.

* * *

"It's a nice day. Mariku never seems to want to leave his room, so I thought I'd take you out." Ryou smiled at him, but this time, Malik could see no malice.

Malik hadn't made much of a fuss when Ryou had told him to shower and get dressed. He wanted to do everything within his power to keep him sane and not dangerous. Then again, Ryou was always dangerous… Doing what he wanted, though, seemed to be the safest route to take to save himself from pain. He would gladly walk down that road instead of the one Mariku was forced to take.

Showering had been hard, physically and mentally. With only one arm, Malik had to reach at odd angle to clean off his back, and had to be careful to keep his still bandaged arm dry. For a moment, while still in the shower, Malik had panicked when he accidentally bumped his amputated arm against the side of the shower door. He had calmed, though, when he remembered that he could let Mariku deal with that terror.

_It isn't real, it isn't real, it isn't real. It is only real to Mariku._

The rest of the shower went smoothly, only with Malik's small difficulties, like drying himself off and working out new mechanics with one arm. He had been given clean clothes, and putting those on proved to be another problem. Malik had cursed while trying to pull his shirt over his head and button his pants. Getting angry made him feel good, though, since it reminded him that he was still the same person, even in such a hell.

It hadn't taken Ryou long to show up at his room again, and Malik cowered in the corner when he opened the door.

"Come on Malik, I'm not going to hurt you."

He had no choice, though, and Ryou had forced him out of his room and into the hallway, holding his wrist tightly. It hadn't taken long to find a door that led outside, because Malik was too shocked by how many people had been in the hallway, all wearing the same uniform. Did they know Ryou lived here? Did they know what was going on outside? Was Ryou manipulating them? Malik's questions only built.

"Nothing? You won't say anything, even agree with me?" Ryou continued to smile at him, and Malik only grew more wary. There was nothing to smile about.

But Ryou was right. It was nice out, very nice. Malik had been used to the cold since he had left Egypt, but it was so warm out that Malik almost felt as if he was back home. Almost.

"It's- good." Malik was relieved to feel his heartbeat slow just a bit from it's fast pace. He didn't like being so close to Ryou. 'Like' wasn't the right word, though, to describe the terror Malik felt when Ryou was even just in his line of sight.

"I thought you'd think so. I haven't been able to be outside, much. I've been too busy, working…"

Was Ryou… making small talk? The idea that he could create a mood so laid back when Malik felt such raw fear disturbed him greatly. Then again, most things about Ryou were disturbing.

Eventually, though, Malik was forced to walk as Ryou pulled him by the wrist. His hand on him made him nervous, feeling trapped, but when he tried to shake away, Ryou only held tighter and gave him a warning look. Malik settled his fear only externally. Inside, his heart resumed it's furious beat.

Wherever Ryou lived- wherever this _was_, it was very beautiful. The landscaping was gorgeous. Green, green everywhere. Having always lived around barren landscapes and the industrial streets of Japan, this was something that was relatively new for Malik. There were flowers and plants and ponds and trees and shrubs and ferns and- Malik didn't know their names, didn't know what any of them were called, but knew he loved it. It made him feel calm.

The area of lawn around them stretched what seemed to be a mile into the distance. The plot of land Ryou owned was immense, even from just what Malik could see. And he _could_ see, now. Everything, everywhere, all at once. The building he had been caged in was many stories high, and dark brick with black railing on balconies high above his head. It was literally massive, both in height and length.

Continuing to pull him along the pebble pathway that wound through the garden, Malik tensed as he saw, again, people. It was such a confusing concept, that people could be _living, breathing, walking_when Isis had described the hell that was going on in the outside world (remembering what she had told him, Malik's mouth felt dry when he was again aware of the feeling of Ryou's hand holding him). They were still wearing those same, white uniforms, and were walking in and out of a large doorway that looked like a storage room. They were also carrying what looked like boxes upon boxes of body parts. Spare body parts. Ryou squeezed his wrist, and turned, walking away from the building and farther into the garden so that Malik could not see.

They were all alone, then, and Ryou seemed to slow, stopping his periodic one-sided conversations. The sky had grown darker, and the air felt heavy and humid. It was going to rain.

"I wasn't allowed to go out places like this, you know." Ryou said, leaving the pathway and pulling Malik over to a tree, where he finally let go of his wrist and leaned back onto it. "When I was younger."

Malik stood awkwardly off to the side, trying to very subtly inch away from him. He flinched when a drop of rain fell on his arm. His black shirt was short sleeved.

"Dad said that parks were dangerous. I'd get kidnapped. I was only allowed to play in my own sandbox at home." Ryou's tangents were foreign to Malik, and he didn't understand why he talked so much about his home life. Malik wondered briefly where Ryou's parents were.

"What about you, Malik?"

"I was never allowed outside."

Ryou was quiet, then. He seemed to be a bit put off when he realized that Malik's situation had been worse. Making a move to just screw it and run, Malik decided against it when more raindrops started to fall on him. Hesitant, Malik moved to sit under the tree, next to Ryou. He didn't want his arm getting wet. The prospect of having to have the bandages changed and his arm touched was more terrifying then being in close proximity with Ryou.

Looking out across the lawn and garden, Malik felt instantly dejected as he noted the wall that rose up just over the horizon. It reminded him that he was caged. It reminded him that he was enslaved. It reminded him that he was once again separated from the world, just as he had been in his childhood… This time, though, Malik wasn't sure if he wanted to be on the outside.

Malik flinched and gasped when he felt Ryou's hand touch his, his natural fear of him showing through well. Looking over at him with wide eyes, Malik watched as Ryou frowned and drew back.

"I want to touch you."

"Don't touch me." His voice wavered, and he stuttered slightly, but Malik glared back at him, his voice cold.

"What will you do to stop me?" Ryou seemed to look amused at this at first, but his expression slowly seemed to drop as seconds went by.

"I'll- get my rod back and slit your wrists." Malik remembered power.

Ryou instantly laughed at this, making Malik bristle and grit his teeth together. He would not be dismissed so easily. Calming down, Ryou smiled at him. "You know, for being so vastly different, there are parts of your personality that every bit of you will show. Both you and Mariku… you're so violent. I guess that's just Malik, though."

"I could kill you so easily. You only laugh of me because of _this,_what you DID to me!" Malik screamed at him, moving his amputated arm up so that the stump was level with his face. If his entire arm still remained, Malik would have been pointing at him. Instead, all he could do was rotate it upward. "_You_made me weak to make yourself seem like you have strength! You have no strength, you've just stolen mine! All you have is drugs and the items! You're superficial!" It was not a smart idea to yell at someone like Ryou, but- but Malik had nothing left. The dejection was starting to grow on him.

Ryou seemed to contemplate his words, still smiling with that _damn_ smile, the kind that made his eyes narrow in anything but warmth. "…I suppose, Malik. Then again, brains over brawn, and I seem to have conquered _that_."

Malik's eyebrows furrowed, gritting his teeth as he lowered his arm. He was so lost. Always _lost_. Because that was it, wasn't it? He was lost? Lost with nowhere to go, nothing to point him in the right direction? Malik's life was at a standstill. Malik's arm hurt.

"I think we should go in, it's starting to rain hard, and I don't want to get too wet." Malik refused Ryou's hand as he stood up. He backed as far away from him as he could, hurting internally. Malik felt as if he was bleeding. "We'll have to run. Are you ready?" Ryou blinked, shrugging off the red jacket he had been wearing to move it above his head to use it as a makeshift umbrella.

Malik wasn't able to give his consent as Ryou stepped away from under the tree's protection and into the rain, running back the way they came. Having no other choice then to follow him, Malik winced as he started to run too.

The rain was heavy, seeming to have come out of nowhere, and the sky had grown almost instantly dark grey. It poured down over the entire garden, the sound of it roaring over his ears as he tried to squint through and see the building ahead of him. Moving his single arm up to shield his eyes, he followed Ryou, getting soaked in the process.

His shoes splashed against puddles that had already formed when they rejoined the path they had walked on earlier. The rain sounded different against the paved walkway, more hollow. Leaves rustled together as the weight of the rain and wind made them hit against each other. His shirt was completely soaked, and his socks were wet, but it felt almost relieving to feel the rain on him, like it was washing everything away. Malik smiled just a bit. The sound of the rain and the feeling of running made him feel exhilarated.

Slowing when Ryou finally found the door they had come through, Malik missed the rain as Ryou opened the door and stepped through, Malik following. Closing the door behind him, the rain pattering against the walls seemed very far away. Giving a small laugh, Ryou shook his head, water flying off of his hair. Malik was again unnerved by the fact that he acted as if everything was normal, as if they were just… normal teenagers…

"Come on, Malik, I thought we'd play a game as we dried off." Another smile, another feeling of dread in Malik's gut.

* * *

"Here you go, go change, you're all wet." Ryou handed him a towel and a new change of clothes when they reached Mariku's room and Ryou shut the door behind them. It was Mariku's room because Malik refused to accept that he lived in this hell. Mariku dealt with Malik's pain.

Reaching the bathroom, Malik's clothes stuck to his skin as he tried to peel them off. It took a lot of awkward twisting and shaking to pull his t-shirt off, and his pants landed with a wet 'smack' against the tiled floor. Drying himself off with the towel Ryou had given him and buttoning up his new cotton shirt and pulling on his new pants, Malik's reflection in the mirror made him turn his back to the wall. He did not want to see his reflection, the new asymmetry of his body. Picking up his wet clothes and hanging them over the shower, Malik opened the door and walked as far away from his reflection as he could.

"Are you comfortable?" Ryou looked up at him from where he sat at the small table in front of the window.

"…My hair is still wet." Malik stood awkwardly in front of the chair opposite of Ryou. He knew he wanted him to sit, but he didn't want to give in. He didn't want to look at him, he didn't want to be near him, he didn't want to sit across from him. Ryou terrified him.

"I'll take that as a yes. I got you the most comfortable clothes I could find." Ryou smiled, and Malik fidgeted, wondering why Ryou cared so much about how comfortable he was. "Sit down, Malik, let's play a game." Lightning chose a good time to illuminate the room with light. Ryou's features seemed so much more malicious when the lighting on his face was dark against stark white.

Malik faltered, but sat down, feeling on edge. Something wasn't right. Malik listened to the rain as it continued to beat itself against the window that the table was seated in front of. Flinching when he felt Ryou's hand cover his own, he tried to pull away, but Ryou stopped him, and Malik froze up when he felt him place something very familiar in his hands.

"Your deck." Ryou said, and the room once again lit up with light.

Malik's throat choked up as he looked down at the cards in his hand. His cards… His cards… His cards his cards his cards! His old deck, his power, his _life_. His deck had helped him all the way through, and now- and now here it was, back in his hands. His cards existed in this hell, and that made it _real._

"I-"

"You allowed your arm to get wet. What does that mean, Malik?" Ryou allowed him a pause so he could watch his expression as horror grew on his face at the realization of what it meant. "No answer? It means your bandages will have to be changed, Malik."

"I-"

"But I am fair. Let's play a game, Malik. If you win, I will allow you to keep your old bandages. But if _I_win, then, well-" Ryou laughed sharply, and Malik felt as if he could cry. "Well, I get to touch your new, beautiful arm, and I will fuck Mariku so hard that he won't be able to see straight. The pain will be too much for you to handle, and once Mariku takes over, I plan on doing to him everything I want to do to you."

At one point in his life, Malik's deck had been his safety, his stronghold, the thing he could always fall back on. Duel Monsters had been one of his only pleasures when he had lived in the tombs. And now, it was adulterated. Now, it was only a symbol of how far from his old life he was. Thunder cracked and then boomed, lightning following shortly after. Malik longed to be outside, to run away into the rain, and never look back. But Ryou commanded him, and Malik felt the weight of the collar around his neck. Ryou looked up through his bangs and smiled.

"Let's duel."

* * *

**Reviews are appreciated. **


	12. Part 12

**I have no idea how to play Duel Monsters, so heads up.**

* * *

"Let's duel." Ryou's voice was the thunder to his life, cutting through his reality and leaving him shaking in its wake.

Malik's hand shook as he stared wide eyed back at Ryou. He clenched his hand around his deck, fingers curling, making the top and bottom cards start to crumble slightly. He- he didn't know what to do. Or what was happening. Nothing was what it appeared, Ryou had to have a higher motive. But the more his eyes searched the face of his tormentor, the more that his thoughts became hidden. Ryou could not be read. He had acted for years, with a kind and gentle face. He knew how to hide his plans.

Ryou began to grow impatient, and his eyes narrowed. "So, Malik, are you just going to stare at me, or are you going to duel me? Are you going to forfeit and allow me to win, or are you going to put up a fight and not go down quietly?"

Searching, searching… "I-" Malik's words seemed light, as if they had not left his body. What… would he do? He could give in, experience terror, and give Ryou what he wanted, or… He could fight, beat him, and-

But would Ryou truly let him get away, unscathed?

His arm gave perfect timing to throb suddenly. The pain awakened him as he felt his stump. The air around it. The missing weight. It was his reminder of what happened to cowards, those who did not fight back. Filled with a surge of bravery and determination, it showed in Malik's eyes as he looked up sharply to Ryou.

"Let's duel."

Ryou's smile no longer had a veil of kindness to it. Ryou's smile hit him with foreshadowed cruelty.

Malik was quick to let his hand loosen and straighten out his cards. His heart sunk with guilt as he saw that two had been wrinkled because he had been careless. Straightening them out, he handed his deck to Ryou, and Ryou did the same. Malik shuddered when their hands touched. How could his hands be so soft, when they were stained with the blood of thousands of bodies and suffering?

"Always let your opponent shuffle your deck," Ryou said, his head turned down and his eyes closed, smiling, "that way, you can assure no cheating will occur. That is, unless you duel Insector Haga, but he won't be doing much dueling in the position that he's in, now."

Malik gulped. He had never even known the boy. Ryou's deck in his hands felt so much different from his own as he shuffled the cards one on top of the other, over and over. It was difficult, with one hand. His eyes continued to search Ryou's face.

They were silent for another thirty seconds, until Ryou decided that his deck no longer had a certain order of cards, and extended his hand across the table. Malik did the same, waiting for Ryou to take his cards, as he could not take his own with only one hand. Ryou used his other arm and picked up his deck from his hand. Moving to do the same, Malik's heart sped up when Ryou grabbed his forearm and tugged him to meet him halfway across the table.

"There will be no cheating." Ryou's eyes seemed so much colder, up close. A dark green with no warmth. A dark green like an evergreen forest, where all the animals had died, leaving only a silent, eerie forest of autotrophs behind. He could feel his breath, as well, and it scared him. It reminded him that Ryou was… _human,_even after everything he'd done. "We will play this fairly. I expect good sportsmanship, when you lose."

Malik wavered. His pupils small as they moved quickly back and forth in fear. But Malik did not forget his courage, and shook out of Ryou's grasp, snatching his deck out of Ryou's hands. Ryou hummed, and leaned back in his chair, looking almost smug. The part of Malik's arm where Ryou's hand had gripped burned.

"My turn!" Malik said, not waiting to gain Ryou's permission. He didn't become angry, though, so Malik fanned out his cards in his hand, and looked down to see what he had drawn.

It was a good hand. But as he scanned over his cards, his heart sunk when he saw revival jam. His combo couldn't work without his god card. And… not only that combo, either, but… all of them. He had always relied on Ra. He had though his deck to be powerful, but what was it, without his trump card? He could hear his heart beat.

'_What do I do, what do I do!? I know his deck, when we dueled my dark half, but-'_Still, Malik's eyes continued to search Ryou's face, just waiting for that one little slip in his front. His eyes darted back down to his hand. '_He plays with trap cards, while I have mostly monsters. That's one advantage, but without Ra…'_

Malik gulped, and closed his eyes, setting down his hand and pulling out two cards. It was awkward, with one hand.

"I play one card, face down," he said, the words familiar, " and summon Worm Drake, ending my turn."

Continuing to watch Ryou's face, Malik's own lit up in embarrassment when Ryou started laughing.

"That, that!? That ugly thing!? Ha, a fair amount of attack points on a first monster, I'll give you that, but I'll show you something far more ugly…"

"You dare disrespect my deck!?" Malik slammed his hand down onto the table, the cards shaking when he did so. His deck was his pride, he would not let Ryou debase it! "I'll-"

"Ah ah, Malik. Calm down, it's my turn. I can't play when you're over there, screaming like that. Screaming is for later. Now, I'm deciding how I'll destroy you. I gave you time to think, do the same for me."

Malik's pride stung when he forced himself to sit back in his chair. He clenched his hand around the fabric of his pants, and grit his teeth, humiliated and scared. It didn't take Ryou long to decide his play, though, and Malik's insides squirmed with worry.

"For my turn, I play…" Ryou looked down, carefully pulling his cards from his hand. "Headless Knight, in attack mode. …Fitting, isn't it? I'm sure you can relate to this card, with how easily you sliced through Yuugi's neck…-"

Malik knew that Ryou was waiting for a reaction. He didn't show it outwardly, but inside, Mariku wavered. He had killed him, to save himself and his sister. At any other point in his life, he would have never felt remorse…

"Ah, well… I end my turn." Ryou smiled, veiling his sadism with a kind gesture.

What… was he doing? No spell cards, no trap cards, no other monster cards, just… that? But wait… had he seen this before?

Moving his arm to pick up his cards and move them into a fan the best he could, Malik played Humanoid Slime and Polymerization, combining his two monsters, just as he had before. They easily destroyed Ryou's Headless Knight, and later, his Portrait's Secret and Ghost of Fled Dreams. Malik's insides continued to twist with worry and fear. Because… this was Ryou. What appeared, was not the truth. What he played, was not his true motives. Malik realized far to late the trap he had been leading him into.

"Honestly, Malik…" Lightning, and Ryou's face lit up as he pulled a single card from his deck. "Don't you know when I'm obviously leading you into a trap?" Ryou's gentle smile ran parallel to Malik's fear as he summoned Dark Necrofear and ended his turn.

Malik destroyed it.

Ryou, again, laughed.

"Again, Malik? So gullible? You've seen me play, haven't you? I chose this strategy to give you an advantage, to make the game, the chase, fun. So _stupid._ You're so _stupid._"

Playing Destiny Board, Malik despaired. He didn't know why he couldn't remember, but… his mind was blank. He _knew_ he had seen Ryou's strategy before, but- but the memory was cleared blank. His mind was in turmoil. He couldn't think, he couldn't duel. He couldn't do anything but fear. Fear his defeat. And… Ryou knew it. It was why he chose to duel him, instead of simply forcing him into submission and punishing him. Ryou liked his suffering. Ryou liked his internal pain. Ryou did not play with cards, he played with manipulating his mind, pulling his emotions, and directing his fear.

What was the point, then? Either way, Ryou won. If he fought, he gave him a struggle. If he gave in, he gave him submission. He- he didn't know what to do. His arm hurt, his mind, everything! Everything! E-Everything hurt, all over! He couldn't think, his mind swam and twisted. There were sirens, in his mind. Loud, loud sirens that made him hysterical, made him unable to think.

He didn't.

Know what to do.

He was petrified.

Scared.

Alone.

Lost.

Malik's mind shut down.

…

There was feeling, in his hand. That was the first thing that Mariku knew as life came rushing back to him. It hit him, all at once, as he resumed control over their body. To save Malik. To save Malik, Mariku would go through the pain. That was how it had always been.

"I-" Mariku tested his voice, and his body shook, as if stepping out of a car crash. The shock was too much to handle. He looked down at his shaking hand, and saw the cards that he held in it. His remaining hand, holding his former power.

"It's your move, Mariku." Mariku knew that Ryou understood exactly what his words did to him.

How was he to duel, when his mind was a complete wreck?

Mariku gulped, and drew another card. Makyura the Destructor. The name was an embarrassment, as it was easily destroyed. And… that was how it continued. Mariku did not have the mental strength to plot, to strategize. There were no trap cards or spell cards, just monster after monster that got destroyed. He could see the excitement on Ryou's face as his life points moved lower and lower.

And then, the words. Ryou's words. He taunted him.

"_Aren't you a duelist, Mariku? After years of practice, this is all you have to show? I expected more."_

"_So animalistic. Without instinct, you have nothing. Your mind can't work on a higher level."_

"_You are going to lose, so give up. You're so pathetic, there's no hope for you."_

And it layered on and on. Each word, each sentence, was a hammer, smashing away the foundations of Mariku's already shaky stability. It was hurting him, and Mariku watched helplessly as Ryou's Destiny Board spelled out his DEATH, his loss, and his helplessness. What… was there left to do. …Nothing. Nothing. That was why Malik had relinquished control. He knew he could do nothing. All that was left, was to take the defeat and pain.

Ryou rapped his fingers on the table, humming as he scanned his eyes back and forth across his hand. He started to move, but stopped, his hand resting on the card of his choice as he looked up at Mariku.

"What an easy win, Mariku. I was hoping you'd give me something more exciting. Though, I'll enjoy my prize when I defeat you."

All it too, was a simple monster, a simple play, and the hand of Ouija board moved to H, completing DEATH. Mariku felt numb, and his throat dry, but he'd known it was coming. Still, it didn't help the twisting pit of dread in his stomach as it became something even heavier. It was a horrible feeling, knowing the torture planned ahead.

Mariku shook all over, more violently then before as he dropped his hand. The cards splayed out across the table, and falling onto the floor. His hand tightened in his hair, and he clenched his teeth together, eyes darting back and forth, but not truly seeing. What was there to see, except for Ryou, who sat laughing across from him.

Ryou's chair scraped across the floor as he stood up, the sound sharp, but almost drowned out by the pattering of rain against the window. It didn't take long to reach him, just a few steps. Mariku shuddered violently when he felt Ryou's hands rest on his neck as he moved to stand behind him. Ryou bent down, and again, he felt that breath on his cheek. It was fake, though. Ryou could not possibly be human.

"I'm here to collect, Mariku. I want my ante."

Mariku knew what would happen. Ryou had told him, had told Malik. But, could- could Mariku do it? …Again? That pain, the torment? He had no choice. He could run, but he couldn't hide. He couldn't escape Ryou, no matter how hard he tried. He could try, but… it would end the same, and he would then lose his pride, as well. What was there left to do, then? Mariku's heart beat fast as to not lose the battle of panic with his mind.

"Get on the floor." Ryou's voice was sharp, cold, and cruel as he suddenly grabbed him by the collar and flung him to the floor, not giving him a choice to follow the order or not. His strength surprised him, and Mariku's pride bled as he landed on the floor. The floor was wooden, and it made a hollow noise as he fell to it. Mariku glared down at his single hand, clenched in a fist upon the wood. He would not give in so easily.

Not moving from his spot, unless wanting to humor Ryou, Mariku's glare moved from his hand up to Ryou. Ryou had moved to sit upon the table, directly center of the windows, as rained continued to poor down upon the glass. The room was dark, and blue hues lurked wherever there was color. His face, was no different. Still pale and slightly peachy, his body was shadowed with that blue tone, the only light in the room coming from the crack under the door. Ryou smiled and looked down at him with cold eyes, countering his glare. Smiling… he did that often.

"How disrespectful. You are an object, my possession, and I will not have you expressing your hatred towards me. Keep it within your mind, Mariku, it'll help me with unraveling it faster." But, would it really? Hatred was what Mariku fed off of, and with accordance, he could feel himself become just a tiny bit more powerful. He never grew larger, his mass never increased, but hatred made him _grow._ It didn't change his predicament, though, and Mariku moved to kneel on the cold floor when Ryou motioned for him to do so.

Ryou looked down on him, both literally and figuratively. It was as if he thought himself an omnipotent being, and… perhaps, that was true. And if he was, then he was a wrathful god. Moving his hand, he positioned it on his leg, and leaned forward so that his cheek rested in it.

"I bet you thought you'd never be here, huh?" His eyes were so cold, frightening that they were large and round. Ryou himself was just a huge contradiction. "You thought that you were the main character, that power couldn't be taken from you. Win the duels, and you would win. Nothing would intervene." Ryou took a moment to laugh, then. The hatred inside Mariku surged. "Look where that got you." Another smile. "I'm afraid to say it, though, but you have lost, and you will continue to lose. Time, and time again. You can't beat me, I have… everything. Not even Duel Monsters, Mariku. I wonder what happened to your skill. Without Ra, are you really that pitiful of a duelist?"

Ryou's words hurt, and that surprised him. Ryou had always talked down to him, always. But… he had been too focused on physical pain, on mental trauma. His words, now, were the center. Mariku looked up at his deck resting on the table next to Ryou's thigh. How much… had been taken from him?

"However, a loss is a loss, and I want my prize. Come here, Mariku."

Mariku wavered. He'd known it was coming, since the very beginning and since he had lost the duel. Still, he paused. What would be ahead of him, what punishment?

"It's not a punishment, it's my prize for winning. Now, come!" Ryou began to grow angry, and Mariku lost his calculating position as he became both humiliated and angry at Ryou, who had used the power of the senen Tauk. How long had he been using it?

"You say it's not punishment, but it is! You expect me to believe you'll show me kindness for winning!? You fucking sic-"

"I SAID GET OVER HERE!" Ryou's relaxed position became hostile as he screamed, enmity radiating off of him, making Mariku mentally cower. How menial he had become. Mariku… didn't want to hurt. He wanted it to be over as soon as possible. He would kill Ryou when he had the chance, not now. Resisting would be pointless and futile. Still, though, Mariku grew fearful, and moved quickly in front of Ryou.

"Good…" Though, he did not look happy. Mariku was wary of his volatile emotions, changing so quickly. …He didn't know why he was surprised at this, after all he had done. Mariku shuddered as he felt Ryou's hand rest on the top of his head, sliding through his hair to hold the back of his head. "Now, I want you to be very good and suck me off." He said it- so calmly. With a smile.

Mariku instantly recoiled, but Ryou had been ready, and held him steady with his hand. He wouldn't-! He couldn't-! After all Ryou had put him through-…!? The thought was sickening. He didn't want to touch him. He didn't want to be near him. Ryou terrified him. Ryou had ruined his life, and everything he had ever had to call his own, had stripped him farther down then even the pathetic level he had been at before. Resting on the lowest rung of the ladder, Ryou had taken even that from him. He would not give him pleasure, he would not put himself through the humiliation and submission willingly.

"I love how you think you have a choice," Ryou said, with sadism and mock kindness, "but I play fair. You lost, and now you will pay, or I will demand an even greater prize…" His free hand trailed to ghost over his arm, which made Mariku sick, and instantly terrified. His stump throbbed, and his mind did, as well. He felt numb as Ryou uncrossed his legs and gently tried to pull him between them.

If he gave in, what would happen? Would Ryou lessen his foreboding pain, or seek to get terror in another way? That was what he truly wanted, after all. And Ryou had it. Mariku felt sick, as always. Terrified, as usual. He didn't know who he was, anymore. He didn't know what was left.

What was left?

What would be there to lose, if he just did as he asked? Should he go to the pain, or let the pain come to him? That way, at least- he wouldn't have to use any energy, to get there… Or was it better to just collect anger? Replace his terror with rage? He had tried. Many times, and some times, it would return to him, but it was gone instantly. Ryou conducted it. He godmodded his life, as if it was one of his tabletop RPGs. Mariku was just a for him to bend at his will.

Then again, if he did give in, this, at least, wouldn't hurt. It wouldn't hurt him physically. It would tear away at his pride, humiliate him, but not severely hurt him. Ryou had done far… far worse to him. He had nothing to gain, but at least, this way, he didn't have so much to lose.

Mariku, who had been pressing back against his hand, trying to escape, now stilled, and he could _feel_Ryou's smile as he rubbed the back of his head slightly with his fingers, guiding him again back between his legs. He sighed shakily as he felt a sort of pressure lessen.

"I hate you."

Ryou regarded him with both amusement and animosity.

"Do your job, animal."

Dread and sickness swirled in Mariku's stomach as he gulped. It shouldn't be that hard, but he didn't want to. Humiliation and submission. He didn't want that. …But it would hurt his pride less if he did it quickly. Just to get it over with. Because that was just what life was. A series of things to just get over. This was nothing more.

His hand felt like lead and it shook slightly as it moved to Ryou's pants, fumbling to get them undone. The task was difficult, it was hard enough to undress _himself._ Ryou hummed, and moved his free hand behind him so that he leaned back on it slightly, continuing to finger his hair with the other. Mariku gulped against as the button to Ryou's pants came undone, and his fingers moved to pull down his zipper. He hesitated, then, nervous. Feeling Ryou clench his hand in his hair was warning enough to keep him going, though, and Mariku regarded his erection with both fear and worry as he pushed down his underwear to let it bob free.

It wasn't as if it was much different then his. Smaller, even, but- it- it scared him. It scared him that Ryou derived pleasure from the torture he put him through, and it scared him to realize that so long as it gave him pleasure, Mariku would always hurt. Ryou wanted his pain, and he would be forced to pleasure him as he screamed from it.

"Get on with it, don't just stare at it, you stupid menial thing." Oh how Ryou must love to say those words… It would be a lie to say that his words didn't hurt, but they were significant on the list of things that he used to hurt him. Still, though, the humiliation lit up within him.

What- what did he do, though? He hadn't done this to himself, only Malik had, and he only knew how to do it one way. Mariku feared the hand that twisted his hair, though, and knew that he needed to hurry up. He just wanted it to end. Quickly. And he knew a quick way.

Spitting on his hand, he was tentative as he placed it on Ryou's erection. His face hurt from the heat that welled up in his cheeks, and from the fear that made his skin tone tinge a slightly darker hue. He wrapped his fingers around the base, holding him firmly, waiting for some sort of encouragement. Or at least, some sort of sign that said he would not be beaten if he was doing the wrong thing. Waiting a little while and getting nothing, Mariku refused to look at Ryou or at his throbbing erection in front of him, and squeezed his eyes shut as he began to pump him.

It wasn't as if Mariku took pride in his work. He wanted it over as soon as possible, as soon as he could get away with, so he could be as far away from Ryou as he could. His grip was tight and he moved his hands fast, not bothering for any sort of deviation from the simple movement. Just up and down, as quickly as he could, ashamed, humiliated, and terrified. His heart beat fast, and his mouth tasted with bile as he felt the skin of Ryou's dick in his hand. What had he been reduced too…

Continuing, Mariku was surprised and his eyes shot open as he felt Ryou's hand tighten harder on the back of his head, warning him only a split second before he slapped him. His cheek burned now with pain along with embarrassment as he let go quickly. He hissed, and wanted to rub his cheek badly, but would not give Ryou the satisfaction of knowing that it had hurt, and didn't want to touch himself when his hand still felt the touch of Ryou's skin. Instead, he clenched his hand and glared to the side, gritting his teeth so that he felt as if they could crumble like sand clumps. It almost made him laugh. But not by much.

"No, no, use your mouth." There was something smug sounding in Ryou's voice as he looked down at him. There was no need for him to- use his mouth, when it all got the same result. But he knew it would tear at his mind, and that, was what he truly wanted.

Fear was the dividend as that sickness mounted. He would not show fear on his face. …But what did it matter if he used his mouth. It was all the same. To touch him in any way was disgusting. He would not give Ryou the satisfaction, he would not! Mariku would regain his pride, the little fraction if it that he had left. Mariku allowed his head to be pushed back to between Ryou's legs. His hand remained clenched. The pain of his fingernails digging into his skin reminded him of what he had to lose as he slowly and tentatively did what he asked.

He had thought Ryou had felt disgusting. It was nothing compared to how he tasted. Humiliation churned within him as he moved his lips around the head of his erection, again squeezing his eyes shut. He could taste precum, and that hint of something slightly salty. Disgusting. So disgusting. This forced act was just ammo towards his fleet, his mind. He wouldn't let it win, though. He would conquer it, just like the rebel American colonials against the much larger British army. He would win. Ryou was stronger and held so much more power, but Mariku wouldn't give in. He wouldn't let him tear away at his mind. Mariku choked as he forced himself to move all of Ryou's erection into his mouth.

So, so disgusting. He hated it, every bit of it. How it felt, how it tasted, all of it. But he forced himself through it, forced himself to use his tongue, to bob his head. He forced himself to allow himself to be used, but he did not allow his mind to break. It was just an act, just monotonous rhythm and calculated movements of his tongue. He wouldn't give Ryou what he truly wanted. But still, the idea of everything he was doing was sickening, and only the pain of his fingernails digging into his palm kept him sane. Pain was the base of everything he knew. It made his mind slip, but also kept him grounded.

Ryou, though, seemed to be enjoying it. That he did not hide. He made happy sighing noises, and regarded him with appreciation. Vocally. Physically, though, he showed his appreciation by pulling and pushing on his scalp, to make him go faster, which made Mariku choke and sputter. His legs had wrapped around his back at some point, pulling him even closer. It went on for a while, and Ryou held out longer then Mariku had expected or wanted.

His moans had become increasingly louder, though, and Mariku was wary when he bent his torso over him, so that both of Ryou's hands were now fisted in his hair. He continued to pull and push his head, and had begun to start thrusting into his mouth, making Mariku overwhelmed along with- everything else that he felt and repressed. It was sickening, to hear such soft sounds coming out of his lips. Soft, so soft, unlike his sharp actions and abundant sadism. Mariku couldn't help the Pharaoh's vessel and their friends for having believed his act. His heart sunk at the idea that it had ultimately led to their death. Who-… What kind of person was Ryou?

Who was he, truly, as he bucked his hips to make Mariku suck him off deeper? Who was he, a person who committed mass systematic genocide? Who was he, to mutilate and murder, to torture and devise pain for all those around him. What had happened to him? Why was it that he chose him to torture, him to use as a puppet as he tightened his legs around him and moaned, cumming into his mouth? Mariku had no theories, and didn't want to know. He didn't want to know the horrors who had molded this person, and spit them out along with the cum in his mouth when Ryou finally let go. The sound was wet and disgusting as the liquid hit the tiled floor.

Ryou let go of him, and slumped back on the table, his elbows behind him, propped up. His legs dangled off of the table, and Mariku looked at him with wary. He had such a small body, it was hard to imagine the strength it possessed.

"You-" Ryou panted slightly, but showed no exhaustion on his face, just a slightly hazed look. He glanced down at him, and Mariku's heart thumped loudly just once as he saw how dark his face looked, cast with shadows. "Lick it up, like the animal you are. Get on your hands and knees and clean my floor."

Mariku's heart beat again, louder, and he showed humiliation and dejection on his face before quickly catching it. His face burned, but he complied, kneeling before slowly lowering his head to the floor and licking what he had spit out of his mouth off of it. Again, it was disgusting, and was rancid in his mouth. It was hard to kneel without two arms, and he was quick to sit up when he was done. Mariku rewarded Ryou with no protesting or tears, merely a glare and feasible hatred.

Ryou looked at him with an apathetic expression, before making a sound in the back of his throat and smiling softly. The shadows on his face were dark underneath his eyebrows, making his eyes seem so dark. He looked at him a little while longer, making Mariku self conscious and nervous, before swinging his legs and hopping up, not bothering to tuck himself back into his pants. That, alone, made Mariku dread his next words.

"Up. Get up, and move to the table and bend over." Ryou smiled at him. Ryou's smiles hurt so much more then any other expression he could offer.

The floor, then, felt so safe, when before it had been a symbol of his forced submission. Animals, like Ryou had said, belonged on the floor at their master's feet. Ryou had told him he fancied him an animal, with no mind of his own, and no pride left to do anything other then obey. This was not true, though, as Mariku had not given in and defied him at every step of the way. The floor now, though, was not the table, which was something Mariku definitely didn't want.

What choice did he have, though? None. No more then he had ever had. If he refused, Ryou would torture him in another way, and would still, probably- rape him. Rape was power, complete power, which Ryou loved and fed off of. …Just as Mariku had fed off of Malik's anger and hurt. Maybe… they were very similar. Within himself, Mariku felt something stir, something that told him to remember that thought, and to never forget it. It was quickly locked away into his mind. The table remained unmoving, though, and Mariku knew he had very few options, if any.

He knew what would eventually happen, and there was no way to escape it. All that was left, was to beat down his pride and allow that transition to occur between his spot on the floor and the imminent pain. Oh- pain. Mariku remembered pain, suddenly, as it shot through his arm and hand. He looked down, and unclenched his fist, watching with fascination as blood dripped from where his fingernails had broken skin. Deeply. He had- hurt himself. Had created his own pain. This blood was his own, not Ryou's work.

Mariku turned his hand upside down, and watched with wonder as blood dripped from his palm, and splattered against the tile floor. If not for the rain, he would be able to hear each droplet as they pattered against the floor, one after another. The blood in his veins was forced from them by the pressure of gravity, bone, and tissue, all compressing down on the incisions on his palms, forcing the liquid out of him. His blood. His life. He looked in wonderment down at the tiled floor as his blood pooled where it dripped in a very small puddle. It had once- been inside him, and now it was gone. Blood was vital to his life, yet it had just left him without any hurt.

Without any hurt.

Mariku looked up at Ryou, and slowly, walked to the table.

Feelings resided within him. Pain, terror, fear, anger, worry, loneliness, humiliation, sadness, yet-

They were not vital. Just like his blood. They were in him, and they could leave him. When had he gained them? These feelings were new and foreign. He had never had feelings before, not during his reign on the blimp. He had resented them, even. Feelings made him hurt, and hindered him. He had been right. Feelings made one human, and humans could hurt. Without them, he would feel nothing.

And so, he reverted. He disconnected himself from feeling, from emotion. He simply did as Ryou told. He moved to the table, and bent over. He stretched out his arm and traced patters into the glass window, looking at them dully as he felt Ryou touch him and strip him of his clothes. He could hear Ryou talking, but not really. And Mariku was free. Free from pain. It didn't hurt as Ryou touched him, he was no longer petrified. He let Ryou do as he wanted. He remembered this, being hollow…

Mariku was glad that Ryou could not see his face as he thrust into him. Mariku was glad that there was no light in the room, so that he could not see his reflection in the glass. He did not want to see. Instead, he gripped the edge of the table, and endured it. He let his body be rocked into, and let himself be touched as he responded. There was no pain, he felt no embarrassment. His body was touched, and he responded as such. It was just an equation. Figures added up, created theories that could not be broken, and this was one of them.

It didn't mean anything that he cried, because there was no emotion behind it. Just leaking pain. He was letting go, letting it pour out of him as he sobbed each time Ryou thrust into him. There was no reason to not let himself cry, after all, since he had no pride left. He was a hollow thing. Numb. His nerve endings were only physical. Mariku closed his eyes, unable to allow himself sight as both he and Ryou eventually reached orgasm.

* * *

"There, beautiful." It was later in the night, after Ryou had cleaned him up and Mariku allowed himself to be, and he had turned on a light on the bedside table, moving Mariku over to the bed where he had sat him down. He had brought a medical kit, one of the small, dinky ones, and had unwound the bandages from his arm. They smelled bad, having gotten wet from the rain, and were hard to get off as they had been stuck to his skin for so long. There were impressions in his skin where they had overlapped. It felt so strange for his bare skin to be in contact with the air.

He felt naked.

These were the confusing times. Where Ryou would feign kindness even though they both knew it was an act. Where he smiled at the warmth actually reached his eyes. His hands were soft and gentle, holding him in place and being careful with his sensitive arm. He moved back when he unwrapped the last piece of gauze from his arm, and looked at him with appreciating eyes.

"Beautiful, Mariku, truly." Mariku refused to meet his eyes, instead, looking away with dejection, and fearing the bit of fear that welled up inside of him. Ryou seemed to devour the site of his amputated arm, as it was finally be able to be seen with every last disgusting detail. The scars, the bits of folded skin, the unnatural shape, everything… "It'll be nice when we can leave the bandages off permanently, but I'm afraid that your nerve endings are still sensitive."

Ryou smiled, and touched his shoulder, making him shudder. Mariku's fear creeped back up as his hand moved down to his sensitive skin, petrified of him touching the underside of his arm. His fingers paused, though, and he just rested his hand there.

"I want more of this," Ryou said, scooting back closer to him as he kissed the side of his neck, "I can't get enough. You're so- asymmetrical. So- vulnerable. Ah, I just- I wish I had the words." He could pretend innocence, but Mariku was no longer fooled. He knew that he was screwed up.

He did that for a while. Touching and petting and listing off everything he loved about his amputation. Mariku was grateful that he paid attention to medicine, though, and did not touch the underside of his arm. He didn't like the feeling of anything touching his stump, and definitely not things like fingers, that could move in much more dexterous ways.

At one point, Ryou had picked up a tube of some sort, and Mariku eyed it with wary as he squirted some of its contents onto his fingers and began to rub it into his skin. It was supposed to help the nerves, and the- something or other about his skin. Mariku didn't understand Ryou's technical terms, and didn't really care to, either. All he cared about was how completely disappointed in himself at the pain he felt when Ryou's fingers massaged it into the curve of his stump, where it was sensitive and unnatural.

There was no way to describe his absolute _disappointment_ as all of his feelings came rushing back to him once his stump was touched. All that pain, that terror, that sadness. They had never left him. Mariku truly did feel like an animal as Ryou was forced to hold him down as he sobbed, to rub the medicine into his arm, and the underside, where he was most sensitive. It hurt. It hurt him so bad, physically, emotionally, and mentally. His hope was gone. He had only wished to be numb.

It was over soon, and Ryou chastised him cruelly with darkly amused eyes as he sat up, and put everything back into the medical kit, leaving Mariku to lay panting and crying silently on the bed. Ryou cooed, and wrapped his arm back up, though it held no comfort. He stroked his face and pet his arm, kissing him, and mocking his pain as he stood up when he was done, turned off the light, and left him to wallow in his misery.

Alone, Mariku turned his head to the left, and moved his stump up so that it was level with his eyes. He understood his mistake. His stupid, stupid mistake. He could squeeze blood out of his hand (of which, his hand had been wrapped up and treated as well by Ryou's cruel hands), but he would never be completely rid of it. His body was filled with it. Without it, he could not survive. He could try to rid himself of emotion, but it returned, just as blood was replaced.

He had been wrong, so long ago when he wore his cape and wielded the senen rod. He hadn't been a god. He had always, always been human, and it would be his fatal flaw. Knowing this, Mariku also understood what he had to live for.

It wasn't how much that could be taken from him, but how much already had been. His only goal left was to make sure that that toll did not rise.

* * *

**Reviews are appreciated.**


	13. Part 13

**I'm not as interested in writing fanfiction now as I am drawing. Don't worry, I'll still finish Scar Tissue, even if it takes me another fifty years. When I start something, I have to finish it.**

* * *

Color is an odd concept. Color, itself, is not tangible. It's a feeling, a taste, a mood. Tension, fear, love, sadness, hatred, envy, intimidation, time, place, language, emotion, state of being; color defines the senses. Color sets a base on which human understand builds upon. Like a flip book, color is the first page. Upon it, each layer grows and grows until you turn the pages to create the whole picture. Color is initial reaction, face value. Color is repetition and uniformity, nonconformity and instance. Color is point of view.

To one, the canvas is blue. To another, green. Purple. Magenta. The spectrum of color and light is as wide as the number of people who view it; there is no set answer. Color is not math, not an equation. There is no right or wrong, no -4 in big, bold, red pen on the top of a homework sheet for each question answered incorrectly (And in accordance, would the pen be red, or dark pink?). Like language, perception of color fluctuates. It is original to the individual, unique to each perception of the hue. Color is unspecific.

Color cannot be defined. One cannot say: "This is blue." Why is it blue? Because it's blue to them. It's blue because that's the definition from their perspective. Logic and reason. To a person of a certain culture, logic is different then the logic of someone from a different culture. There is no right or wrong. Blue to one is merely blue because of what they grew up with. They pulled from their mind, tradition, language, and ethnicity to say that "This is blue." They. _They. They_ said it was blue. But another says it is purple. Who is right? Neither, or both? Both are right, because to both, they are right. A circular argument. If both are right, neither is right.

Pain is color. Pain is red and black and white and magnificent yellow. Pain is seething blue, beige, coral, turquoise, heliotrope, and maroon. Pain is a combination of all. Pain is the lack of color. Pain is everything at once, and nothing at all. Pain, like color, is point of view. The individual perception, the feeling that only the self can consume. Pain is ego. A selfish feeling; no one else can ever truly feel as the ego does. Id, ego, superego. Pain is all, and cannot be defined without the other.

Mariku felt pain. Therefore, Mariku felt color. Mariku's being is Id. Therefore, Mariku was pain.

Id, the definition; the division of the psyche that is completely unconscious and serves as the source of instinctual impulses and demands for immediate satisfaction of primitive needs.

Mariku, the definition; the division of Malik's psyche of which is completely unconscious and serves as the source of instinctual impulses and demands for immediate satisfaction of primitive needs.

Mariku; Id. Id; pain. Pain; color. Mariku; color. A is to B as B is to C. A is equal to C. Mariku is equal to color. Color is unspecific, Mariku thus, was unspecific. Color cannot be defined, therefore Mariku cannot be defined.

Who was he?

What was his purpose?

His state of being?

Id?

Primitive impulse of the psyche?

…Malik's pain, Malik's unconscious rebelling force inside his mind. Id is what demands immediate satisfaction, and Mariku demanded the same.

Answers. Mariku wanted answers. Mariku demanded acknowledgement and feeling. He demanded Malik's attention, and the experience of nerve endings reaching the brain. Mariku achieved the second. Mariku felt. Mariku felt emotion. Primitive need. Basic, primitive need. But, of what? It was there, it was with his every breath. But Mariku could not place the need. He knew he had it, but of what?

Need was an anonymous author, a scripted code. His psyche craved for the answer (an oxymoron, if Mariku was Id?). He needed it, he knew that. But what? What emotion, what desire? A paradox; Mariku was need, but he did not know what.

Purple. The color purple. That was what Mariku felt. Color. Purple. Pain. Mariku was pain, Mariku was purple. It was who he was, at the core. Purple was what Mariku's ego was. Purple was his self, distinctive from other selves. Purple was what his pain built on, his hatred and his loneliness. His need for Malik's acknowledgement, and limitless freedom. It was all purple. The color purple. Purple was Mariku's feeling, his self, his emotion, his Id, Ego, and Superego.

But what was purple?

It was all of those things, but color is undefined. Mariku wanted answers, explanations, and theory. He had hypothesis, but he wanted fact. Color had to be defined. But color cannot be defined.

Who was he?

Color?

Pain?

Id?

Purple?

He was all.

He was none.

Who was he?

* * *

Bakura was an anomaly. Mariku would most often see him with Ryou, since, well, Ryou was what he most often saw. It was difficult seeing him as the same person as the one during Battle City. Perhaps it was because of the physical differences, or maybe it was due to his now quiet nature. It was true that he had changed. Of course, there was no denying it. He was taller, more muscular, had shorter hair, and of course, his skin color was much darker. His face was not the same as Ryou's, as it had been before. He was his own person, physically. A part of Mariku felt angry at this. But what confused him the most was his change in character.

He was, if, in a word, quieter. Even though he had been hiding within Ryou during Battle City, whenever he revealed himself, he did it with booming presence. He shouted and made outrageous proclamations, dueled like he was living on the edge. Bakura said he had been the darkness. Bakura now, seemed to say nothing.

Or maybe, it was just because Ryou did most of the talking. Whenever Bakura would come when Ryou visited him, he lurked around the back of the room, away from Ryou and away from Mariku. He stayed out of Mariku's way, or was it out of Ryou's command? But when they would leave, he would follow him out, right next to his side.

Were they equal, or was it power play?

Mariku sat still, watching Bakura through the corner of his eyes as Ryou sat next to him, talking in a relaxed tone. It had been two weeks since Mariku had his bandages changed, and Ryou had made it a regular habit to change them every couple of days. It didn't hurt as bad as it had before, to have his arm touched, but he was still incredibly uncomfortable with it. In the time passing, Ryou seemed to be more- busy. With what, Mariku wasn't sure if he'd like to know. But during the time that he took off, Ryou had come to get enjoyment either out of teaching Mariku, or mocking his ignorance. He couldn't tell which.

Learning, Mariku found, made him very frustrated. He wasn't good with memorization, and Ryou hoarded this over him. And there was no _point_ to it, either. What would Mariku do with memorizing maps and language? He was confined to the designated areas that Ryou allowed him. Where would he apply this knowledge? Nowhere, Ryou just liked to taunt him.

"Aye." Ryou said, moving his hand so that his index finger rested under the character. "This is the letter Aye. Say it; Aye."

"Ahye." Mariku said the letter with apathy.

Ryou frowned, but continued. "Aye, Bee, See." He continued to move his hand so that each letter he spoke, Mariku saw its corresponding character.

"Ahye Beh Cyee." He hated this.

"Your accent is horrible, it's so thick that I can barely even understand what you're trying to say." Ryou smiled, and let go of his hand, leaning back against the couch. He exhaled, looking both content and angry at, somehow, the same time. Ryou's animosity was a hard thing to understand. Opening his eyes a bit, he reached over and ran his hand through Mariku's hair, making him shiver with the contact. Mariku's hand clenched on the paper, crumpling it slightly. He would love to hit him.

Seeming to be lost in his own thought, Ryou said nothing for a while, just looking off into the distance. The silence was broken when his hand dropped, and he shifted, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. He moved his hand, turning the page of the book.

"What is this?"

"B-" Mariku paused. He couldn't remember.

Ryou looked over at him expectantly, and smugly. Mariku was rewarded with derogatory and belittling words when he answered wrong.

"B-?" He started again, stuttering slightly. Goddamnit, he couldn't remember what it was. He couldn't remember the word. He hated English. He hated that language so much.

"You know, Mariku," Ryou said, pretending to be disappointed, "I'd like to believe that it isn't hard for you, and that you're just not trying as much as you can, but sometimes, I just feel as though you simply cannot grasp a higher, more complex ability to think. Are you? Are you stupid, or are you just playing with me?"

Inside, Mariku seethed. On the outside, Ryou looked up at him with such malevolence that he wondered if he understood the true meaning behind his words. He hated him, he hated him so much. He wanted him to die. He wanted him to die, and Mariku wanted to be free.

"I'm not-"

"Ryou."

Mariku jerked, startled by the extra voice. He had forgotten that Bakura was in the room. He turned his head towards him, and could feel Ryou looking his way, as well.

"Yes, Bakura?" Ryou's voice was somewhat snippy, annoyed that he had been cut off during mid argument.

Bakura seemed apathetic, sitting in a chair with his legs crossed, a book in one hand and what Mariku had learned to be a cell phone in the other. Looking down briefly at the open pages in his lap, he bookmarked his spot and closed the book, looking back up to Ryou.

"You're needed," he said, and Mariku was always surprised to hear his new voice, instead of his old, "there was a riot in Bangladesh."

"Fuck." Ryou shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting to the phone in Bakura's hand. He continued in a foreign language, the one that Mariku recognized as English. "Is it-?"

Bakura looked uncomfortable. "…Yes."

They conversed for a while longer, the sound of the language foreign, making Mariku feel uncomfortable. Although he did not understand what was being said, language was not all about spoken words. He could hear the anger in Ryou's voice, and the slight tone of regret in Bakura's. Ryou was angry, and Bakura was worried. He did not need words to tell him that.

"You stay here," Ryou said, turning away from Bakura after a while, to face him. "I don't want you to leave the room." His voice was low and dangerous, and Mariku was glad that the anger was not technically directed at him.

Ryou reached over in front of him, picking up a stack of papers he had brought with him (For what reason, Mariku didn't know. He had never mentioned them.). Gathering them up and tapping them on the table, he stood, tucking them under his arm.

"Bakura…" Ryou slipped on his shoes, "I want you to stay here."

The look on Bakura's face was unrivaled in confusion. "Ryou, what-"

"Don't talk back to me!" Ryou spun around, his eyes filled with anger, and a fraction of fear. "Stay here, and make sure no one leaves this building!" He said no more, and gave no look back to Mariku as he left the room, walking fast, although Mariku could tell that he wanted to run.

The door slammed shut behind him, and Mariku immediately felt the tension in the room. He was alone with Bakura. Mariku battled with himself on whether or not he should turn his head towards him. His curiosity ached to look at him, but facing him one on one seemed to be a difficult task. He had spoken to Bakura once, maybe twice, after his- amputation, and was not exactly sure what their relationship remained as. Did Bakura still wish to kill him? But no, he had the items, there would be no need for him to wish Mariku death, so then what-?

Mariku shifted, feeling large and conspicuous. His mind ached to look over. They were just sitting there. He couldn't even see what Bakura was _doing._He couldn't help it. He _had_ to look.

Giving into temptation, Mariku turned his head to look to his right at Bakura. Expecting to not be noticed, Mariku's heart beat thudded in his chest as he was greeted by Bakura staring exactly straight at him. Frozen in his seat, Mariku's eyes darted back and forth as he stared back at him, unable to look away. Unlike Mariku, however, Bakura was completely relaxed. There was nothing in his posture that hinted towards the nervousness that Mariku felt. He was completely at ease with the tension in the air.

And in this way, Mariku could tell this was, without a doubt, Bakura. Bakura never showed fear or apprehension, and neither did this person. This was Bakura, no matter what he looked like.

There was no clock, this time, to count the passing of time or to break the silence. Instead, Mariku had to do it himself.

"What the hell are you looking at." It was without true threat, but the tone felt familiar.

Bakura's apathetic expression did not change at Mariku's words. In fact, the most they did, instead of coming off as intimidating as Mariku had hoped, was make Bakura grin in such a way that made Mariku wonder how he could have ever thought this was anyone but Bakura. "Want to take a guess?"

Mariku grit his teeth and made a slight growling noise, and opened his mouth to sling back sarcasm that matched Bakura's own, but was cut off when Bakura continued.

"Sorry, I lied. Don't guess, I already know what it'll be." Bakura continued to smirk, enraging Mariku farther. He was falling right into his trap, and he knew it.

"I'm sure you do, you prick. I'm sure you knew that I was going to tell you that it doesn't matter, since you only do what Ryou tells you to do." Mariku grinned back, feeling adrenaline rise inside of him. Bakura always made him feel like this. Bakura was a thrill.

This time, however, Bakura paused. It was only for a second, but Mariku noticed it. What he said impacted him. Bakura showed weakness. Mariku had the upper hand, even if it was just for that one second. "And what," Bakura said, leaning forward, his eyes narrowing, "Ryou doesn't command you? You don't bend and break to his every word? Who are you kidding, you're his bitch if nothing else."

"At least I don't do it from my own free will like you!" Mariku's voice was close to screaming as Bakura's every word sent him over the edge of hatred and rage.

"At least I have one! You're nothing, you're worthless! You're a little bitch who can't even help themselves!" Bakura laughed, and jumped up to his feet, throwing his arms out to the side.

The anger within Mariku grew, and kept doing so until he believed it could have no peak. It grew exponentially, and doubled in its rate as Bakura's words sunk into him, and he doubted himself, almost believing them.

"Fight me!"

Bakura didn't need to say it.

Mariku lunged, without thinking. He stumbled a bit since he had been sitting, prior, but the second he formed his hand into a fist, he felt no regret. He needed this. Needed the adrenaline, the spontaneity, the masculinity, and the danger. It didn't matter if it was cards or fists, Mariku needed to fight. And he did. He swung his arm to the left, aiming for Bakura's face, and was unsurprised when he ducked, and his punch missed. Bakura was a talented duelist, Mariku didn't doubt that he would be good at fighting physically, as well.

Thinking on his feet, Mariku twisted, dodging as Bakura moved to kick him. Catching his leg, he pulled back, but Bakura caught his footing in time enough to punch him square in the jaw. Mariku felt blood fill his mouth. The pain shot through his jaw to his cheek to every part of his body, blood pumping through his veins. The pain was a wake up call, and the instinct to fight only increased. Mariku fell back slightly, spitting the blood out of his mouth before he lunged again, this time aiming for Bakura's face. Right when he felt to be a millimeter away from making contact, Bakura caught his arm, catching him off guard, and used it to his advantage as he flung him to the side, kicking his legs out from underneath him as he did so.

Faintly telling that he was falling, Mariku had no time to think before Bakura was on top of him. He moved his leg up between their chests, trying to push away as Bakura grabbed for his arm. Twisting to the side, he squeezed away just enough to finally hit him, punching him in the gut. Bakura coughed, the air rushing out of him, but didn't let up, and wrestled Mariku back underneath him. They were both screaming insults, grunting from the exertion. Feeling the dominance start to diverge quickly from him, Mariku struggled underneath Bakura's grip. Bakura's new body was strong, and he could feel his muscles. Kicking and screaming, Mariku clawed at his arm as Bakura flipped him over onto his stomach and leaned on his back, pulling his hair. Grabbing his arm and forcing it behind him, Bakura had him successfully pinned.

"Goddamnit, get off of me!" Mariku screamed, continuing to struggle.

Bakura laughed, tightening the grip on his wrist as he used his free hand to grab his hair. "You lost, I won! Are you already begging!?"

"I'd never beg for you!" The humiliation was beginning to replace Mariku's adrenaline as Bakura shook his head from side to side.

"But you would for Ryou?"

Mariku paused as Bakura's voice became low, and he no longer screamed. His heart thudded loud in his chest, and Mariku wondered if he could hear it, since they were so very, very close. "You don't know- anything." Mariku hissed, a sick feeling coming to rest in his throat.

"Oh, I don't, do I?" Bakura laughed darkly, yanking his hair. "Well let me tell you something… Ryou tells me everything. You're his pride, you know. You're his favorite project. You're a symbol of his power. He tells me how he makes you beg for him, to stop or to keep going. Oh believe me, _Mariku_, I know _everything_."

That sick feeling in Mariku's throat travelled to his stomach where it wallowed and churned. The humiliation was quick to devour his pride and hatred. "I don't know what you're talking about." He managed to force out.

"You don't?" Bakura feigned surprise. "Well then, let me tell you… Ryou is off his rocker. Actually, he's _always_ been crazy, the kid's a nut job. No really, he's screwed up. Do I need to tell you this? But the thing is, he's not just crazy, he's smart. The truly insane don't know they're crazy, isn't that right, Mariku." Bakura pulled back on Mariku's hair so that his neck was forced at an odd angle, where Bakura's lips were right next to his ear. Bakura laughed.

"He's looking for something, and you're his test subject. You're coming along _so_ nicely, too. He was happy, and you don't see Ryou happy. But uh oh, what's this. Something's happened recently, something bad. Ryou isn't going to be happy anymore, so you'd better watch yourself. You'd better watch what you say to me, and what you say to him. Because even though you're his _pet_ project, little Ryou is completely cra~zy, and the more Zorc takes a hold of him, the worse and worse he's going to get."

"…Zorc?" Bakura's words didn't mean much to him. After all, Mariku had grown to learn that Ryou was insane. There was no other explanation. Mariku squeezed his eyes shut when Bakura pushed his head back against the floor, the rug on the hardwood rubbing against his cheek and forehead.

"Don't you know about Zorc? Who are you, Mariku? You can't even win, and now you don't even know what Zorc is?" Another laugh. Bakura had such a vast supply of humor. Or mocking. Probably both. "I told you that I was the darkness, remember? I am Zorc. I am the darkness. I am the pain and hatred in this world. I'm a god, I guess you could say, a deity. But it Zorc, the darkness, it's something _within_ you, within everyone. But I know how to channel it. Except, dear Ryou, you see, well, when he became one with the Senen Items, Zorc became a part of him, as well. But his body isn't handling it well, his mind is starting to deteriorate, that darkness is taking over him."

"Bullshit, he's always been evil."

Bakura paused, seeming to ponder this. "Do you think so? Do you really think he was born evil?" Mariku opened his mouth, ready to say something, but was cut off when Bakura continued. What was this turn in conversation? "I am Zorc, I am that darkness, but I was not born evil. I was created this way. Through pain and torment from others, I grew to be who I am now. Do you think Ryou was born evil? Do you think the second he opened his eyes he decided to inflict pain on the world? How prejudice, Mariku. You should know better then anyone that one is not _born_ with hatred. It's _created._"

Mariku didn't know what to say to this. The concept of accepting that Ryou wasn't evil was too much to handle. Or, no. It wasn't that Ryou wasn't evil, it was that Ryou wasn't born _initially_ evil. The idea that he had been so slighted by the world to turn into such a horrible person was a little inconceivable. But then, isn't that what happened to himself?

He had Malik's memories. He remembered being a child. He remembered that innocence and happiness, but also the growing pain and hatred within himself. But Malik wasn't born with Mariku. Mariku had been created as time moved on. What Bakura said was true. Then… was Ryou human? That idea as well was hard to grasp. Mariku didn't know how such a person could be human. Then again, _they_ had called him inhuman, too.

But, was he?

He had thought he was a god, but Mariku bled. Blood moved within him, he was not a god.

But was he human?

(Who was he?)

Mariku was left to think, with Bakura's knee digging into his back, and his fingers gripping his hair. It was such a strange reality. It was a kaleidoscope of imagery, emotion, and feeling, all things that, only a month or two ago, had been completely foreign to Mariku.

Was he living, then? He was not free, but he could touch. He could feel the world around him, and respond to it. Homeostasis, stable internal conditions. Then what of Ryou, was he the same? Ryou could feel, but was he free? Was Ryou human? Who was Ryou?

The weight in his mind was metaphysical as Bakura's moved from him, the weight lifting. Mariku coughed, immediately crawling away where he flipped himself over onto his backside and collapsed, panting as if he had been suffocated. Bakura remained sitting, and again, stared at him.

"What are you doing. It's my turn to ask." Bakura's mood had changed quickly.

"Guess." Mariku narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not playing games with you; _what are you doing._"

"I don't know what you mean." …And he didn't. What was he talking about?

Bakura sighed, and his strong demeanor and posture seemed to slouch a bit. "I mean, what are you _doing_, now. What are you waiting for? What are you _doing._"

"What am I _doing_?" Mariku faltered. The question confused him, and worried him. "I'm… living?"

"Are you?" What was this sudden interrogation? "Why, Mariku?"

Growing uncomfortable with Bakura's questions, Mariku hid his insecurities with a front of anger. "I don't have to tell you anything, you don't need to know anything."

"And who says that? You?" The expression on Bakura's face grew angry, and Mariku became a tiny bit worried. "Let me tell you something else, Mariku. Ryou is _dangerous,_a _threat_. Not to you, but to the entire _world._ You are his favorite project, and he feels as though he's so close to finding the answer. You are what is keeping him on the border between insane, and uncontrollable. You're like the timer on the detonator, the second you decide that it's not important to live anymore, it's going to go off, and he's going to destroy _everything_."

The pounding of his heart returned. "So?! What does it have anything to do with you, what I am or am not doing, what I'm living for, or how I'm living!?"

"BECAUSE, YOU IDIOT, I'M TRYING TO KEEP THE WORLD _ALIVE._" And again, Bakura exploded. With anger, aimed towards him, but without fighting. "Do you even know how close he is to cracking!? Of course not, you know nothing! You don't know anything about Ryou, you don't understand the severity of what's happening! All you care about is yourself! You can't allow yourself to be the side character, no, it has to be all about you! But it's not, Mariku! It's not about you! You don't have the _choice_to die! I won't let you die, I won't let Ryou's project fail! The _second_ you stop living, Ryou's answer will die with you, and he'll- Oh god, I don't even know."

Bakura had gone from angry, to worried, to nervous, to almost scared in under a minute. He paced back and forth, his mind not even fully on Mariku. "It'll be bad, horrible. Zorc will take him over. He won't have a purpose, all he'll have left is hatred. The death toll will rise, he'll kill more then he already is just to satisfy that pain. I'm out for human continuity. If you die, so will the human race, and Ryou himself. The world of darkness you wanted will not exist, because for pain to survive, there must be beings to feel it. There can be no darkness without humans. There will be no human life. You can say we've evolved beyond instinct, the _need_ to reproduce to continue our species, but when faced with the idea of extinction, well- _I won't let you die._"

…What had he gotten himself into? What world had he been born into? How had he gone from a life of servitude in Egypt, a fragment of Malik's mind, to the key factor of keeping the world's new dictator in check? How was it that he had been the epitome of hatred and malevolence, to holding his amputated stump of an arm at night, alone, in a foreign country? It wasn't true, he was the main character. He was himself. He was ego. He was the only person who could truly see the world, because he was the only person who truly lived. This, because his point of view was the only one that he had ever known.

So what if he wasn't? What would happen if he wasn't ego, if he wasn't the main character? What would happen if he was just a pawn? What was the purpose of his life? Who was he? What role did he play on the chess board? He had been Queen, before (Ha! Mariku almost laughed), but play by play, his status only took blows. _Was_ he only a pawn? Just one of the many others? But- Bakura had said he was important. Was he King, then? A step below Queen? Important, but not as so. Mariku's mind hurt. With each question, came a new one.

"Bakura…" Mariku shifted his legs so that they were crossed. He looked down at his lap. "What is the outside world like? How many people have died?"

Bakura shifted from foot to foot, but looked down at him, not hiding anything. Mariku wondered how he had gotten the scar underneath his right eye. "Maybe- Ryou will show you. I'm sure he's proud of it. I can only support him, though. I can't do anything other then support him."

"…It's bad, then?"

"I don't know what your definition of 'bad' is. You have no morals."

Mariku felt a bit put off at this, and a bit guilty. Guilt- it was such a strange emotion. "Who said I have no morals? I have enough morals to have killed Malik's father, who was a threat to our existence."

"I'm not arguing with you, you don't need to know now, anyway. All you need to know is that you _cannot die_." His words seemed rush, as if he was trying to get everything over with. Mariku had never seen him nervous before. …But that didn't really mean much, as Mariku had _never_ really seen much of Bakura before.

"That's a lot for you to say, you-"

Seeming to become habit for that day, Mariku was once again cut off. This time not by Bakura, but from the last person in the world that he would have wished to see. As if he had been listening to their conversation from behind the door, Ryou came in, literally, with a bang, as the door swung open and hit the wall. An angry Ryou was not a kind Ryou, and especially with the information Bakura had shed upon him, Mariku subconsciously pulled his legs to his chest as he glared at both of them.

"Bakura," Ryou said, his eyes darting to his partner, who seemed to relax in his presence, something that Mariku seemed very- odd, "I need you to do something for me."

The rest of the conversation was in English, and Mariku was wary of what was being spoken that was too important for him to hear. Ryou was angry, and nervous. He could tell that he was flustered, from the way that he stumbled over his words and his eyebrows furrowed just slightly. Walking over to grab his arm, Ryou tugged Bakura down into a kiss, before almost literally shoving him away in the direction of the door. Bakura turned, saying what Mariku could only guess to be a goodbye, before leaving the two of them alone once again.

Ryou didn't seem to pay attention to him for a while, pacing back and forth across the floor, fussing with papers that rested on desks, and pulling off layers of clothing until he had on only his undershirt and pants. Turning his back to Mariku, Ryou shuddered slightly before swiveling to face him.

"Where did we leave off, Mariku?"

Mariku was wary to answer, worried of facing his anger, or provoking him farther with wrong answers. Not answering at all, though, Mariku decided, would be far worse. "We- You- were teaching me the alphabet."

The expression on Ryou's face lightened a bit, although Mariku could still feel the animosity radiating off of him. "Oh, that's right, I remember. Come here, Mariku, we weren't finished."

And so Mariku did as he was told. He came, he went to Ryou. He allowed Ryou to touch him and teach him, touch his arm and sleep with him. He allowed it, because he had no choice. Mariku could not die. Not for the benefaction of the human race, but for himself. He could not die, because he could not kill Malik. Malik was the reason for why he lived. For Malik. For himself. Mariku was Malik. Malik was purple.

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**Reviews are appreciated.**


	14. Part 14

**I once said that I would finish this fic, even if it took me 50 years. Well it hasn't been 50, only 3. Three whole years since I last updated, and five whole years since I started this. It's a very strange feeling. I hadn't thought that much time had passed. But good news, because I've come back to Yuugiou. I'm sorry for leaving, but nostalgia has brought me back. There's about 2 or 3 more chapters to go here, and I'm ready to take up the challenge. I reread this fic before starting to write again, and was pretty embarrassed by it. Though, I did scrap the last chapter I had published because it wasn't the direction I wanted this story to go and only uploaded it because I felt bad about not updating. I'm not a kid now, so hopefully that'll show through in my writing. And I know this is a small update but I just needed to get back into the groove of writing. I have a couple new fics planned after I finish this, so stay tuned and have fun.**

**I'm back, baby.**

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For a long time, Ryou was angry. The last thing he had ever expected was resistance, but that was exactly what he got. Mariku couldn't be sure how much time had passed, but it was apparently enough for people to start organizing. Isis had told him everything; how Ryou had made world leaders bend and submit to his new rule. All it took was gathering the items and then world domination was in the bag. At first there had been no resistance. Maybe it was just pure shock. It was different now, though.

Humans in general think as a group. Of course, there are always leaders, but most people are followers. Widespread panic tends to wash over everyone in its path. The collapse of political alliances helps to ease that along. In a normal situation of abnormal acts of terror, militaries would be sent out to squash the problem. But Ryou was an abnormal plague. While the world aged over thousands of years, ancient Egyptian lore was a thing of the past. Human beings evolved and the older stories were left behind. No one in the common age would fear the resurrection of Zorc. Those were stories. And that was exactly why Ryou was able to conquer.

In the modern era humans feared war and economic unease. So when the sky turned black and darkness incarnate washed over, there was mass chaos. No one knew what was happening. The supernatural was the least suspected threat. Ryou took advantage of this. Of course, nations did try to retaliate at first, but mechanical weapons of destruction were no match against magic. It was unthinkable, things of stories, but it was true. Ryou had unlimited power, his only limit being his imagination.

He forced nations to bend. Delegates were sent from all over the world to meet with them as he gave them his ultimatum: submit or die. And people did die. Heroism in the end counted for millions of deaths. Those who spoke against him were eliminated like insects. People saw neighboring countries who had been allies for hundreds of years be exterminated in a matter of seconds. If the country did not submit, darkness took over. A literal wave of rising, boiling, churning blackness washed over the land and drowned it. The corpses were left to rot in its wake.

From what he had heard, it was truly eerie. Or maybe it was what he didn't hear that was the most unsettling of all. There were no sirens in the distance, no mobs, no anarchy that he thought would swarm up to the gates of Ryou's stronghold. The world was strangely quiet. Everyone held a bated breath. And that's why the riots were so horrible.

Perhaps Ryou thought there really wouldn't be any rebellion. Maybe it was childish of him to think that, but to be fair, there _had_ been no resistance beyond the initial shock. It had been months now. The seasons changed before Mariku's sheltered eyes. Maybe Ryou had gloated a little much, triumphed a little too long, but the rebellions snapped him out of that smugness.

They were hardly a threat. Mariku heard whispers in the halls between servants. 'Another uprising in Moscow.' 'Did you hear about the Seoul revolt?'

Mariku didn't know these cities. He didn't know anything except the tomb and the blimp and now the white, white room in Ryou's mansion. He didn't know them, but he knew they were no match for Ryou's power. No matter how many people spoke up, no matter how many countries organized themselves against him, they would never win. Ryou had absolute control. The sennen items were the gateway to immortality and power. Nothing could touch him or his grip on the world.

There had been assassination attempts. Almost daily, he thought. But none of them got past the front gates. Most of them were stopped in the middle of plotting. Because Ryou had the Eye, he knew the ins and outs of all the world's workings. He could delve into the mind of anyone he chose, and his gaze spread over the whole world.

Nothing truly posed as a threat, but Ryou saw it as so. It made him furious. It made him pace back and forth for hours, muttering and yelling to himself and scuffing his feet on the floor so that black marks tracked everywhere he paced. Mariku sat and watched him most of the time. Ryou made it a habit to bring him wherever he went. He didn't have much of a choice but to watch him scheme and plot.

Ryou had left him alone for the most part for a while. True he still lashed out and would periodically hit him or play with his fear, but not in the way he used to. It was utterly impersonal now. Mariku used to have a very singular and personal hell. The world used to revolve around him and his pain. He wasn't so sure now. Something in Bakura's words all those months ago had opened his eyes.

Mariku wasn't sure what he felt anymore. The fear was there, for good reason, but he wasn't sure what else. He felt a bit disconnected. Mariku had always been narcissistic. Malik had always been narcissistic, and Mariku was Malik's emotions tripled. But the idea had begun to dawn on him that he was only one person. Yes, he was Ryou's project and Ryou's project was what was keeping him from tipping off the edge into total insanity, but watching Ryou pace back and forth day after day because of the actions of others felt extremely humbling. Ryou's attention was no longer as much on him, and Mariku's mind was once again allowed to wander.

He began to hate again. With a boiling rage he began to hate Ryou once more. He had always hated him, but dealing with the overwhelming struggle of fear had once took him over and replaced everything else. Maybe the part of him that was Malik had decided that enough was enough. The fear would not torment him any longer. It was still there, but it could be contained. Mariku refused anguish. If he was a conqueror, what was he if he could not overcome his own emotions?

The time that Ryou left him to himself allowed him to recover. With each passing day he got back small parts of himself. He was damaged, physically and mentally strained, but he was a self made man. If he could pull himself out of a tomb in the ground, he could pull himself out of the pit of fear and terror. He replaced the fear with hate. Hate felt good. It was the foundation of his very creation. And he would use it once again.

And so he watched Ryou pace back and forth. Ryou was slipping. He had control, but he wanted perfection. He had the whole world, but the idea of people trying to overcome him drove him insane. It was easy to stop these people, but just the idea of it left him simmering with anger. It seemed that Ryou had very little time left for Mariku. He had expected him to take it out on him, but for the most part he didn't. Mariku thought about what Bakura had said.

Zorc was eating Ryou alive from the inside out, consuming his mind. Perhaps he had not always been insane, but the darkness was not helping him. It was getting worse, and more hard to control. Ryou may have had the key to immortality, but his body and mind were not suited for such a host. When Bakura had lived inside him, it was diluted. Zorc was inside Bakura, who was himself unearthly. Born human, Ryou was not, and the parasitic darkness was consuming him.

Ryou lashed out against the people who tried to rebel against him. He made a spectacle of it, broadcasting their execution over the world through television. He would have him watch sometimes. It was a gruesome affair, one that Mariku once would have delighted in but now watched with curiosity. It was curious in that Ryou was being watched in fear by the world itself, armed forces surrounding him looking for a shot, standing on a platform high above anyone else, yet he was so small. Looking at him commanding awe, but he was so small. Mariku had always been significantly taller than him, but seeing him amidst a terrified audience, he realized how small he really was. In that short, petite body, held a monster.

It was then that Mariku started to think about killing him. He entertained the idea for a long time, but nothing like this. It seemed to consume him. Seeing Ryou's body made him lust for blood again. Oh, he hated him so much. But hatred wasn't his only fuel or drive. It was the curiosity. What if he _could_ just kill him? Their bodies were human. Ryou had hurt him. With great ease. All he had had to do was dominate him physically, and his flesh and bone was separated from him. Of course Ryou had used tricks, like the rod, but in the end it was physical dominance that allowed him to hurt him. And seeing Ryou there, so small, truly seeing him, Mariku believed he could do the same.

He was stronger, bigger. His mind was no longer the caged, cornered animal that it had once been. Ryou had always called him an animal. A dumb animal. An insult. But Mariku felt like it now, his eyes watching him pace back and forth like prey. He could feel his muscles tense, waiting for a chance to spring at him, to plunge his teeth into his throat and rip out his life blood.

Still though, he was scared. Or maybe not scared, but wary. Mariku wasn't a fool, he knew what Ryou was capable of. He knew that if he did plan an attack, that Ryou was more than capable of ending his life right there. And he was certain that he would. At some point, Mariku believed that he would simply be physically punished. This was when he believed himself to truly be special. But Ryou's mind was slipping, and slipping farther and farther away from him. He no longer cared about his project, he no longer cared about Mariku. Mariku didn't believe for one second that he would be spared, if Ryou truly became angry with him. And above all else, Mariku cherished his life. No matter how deformed his body was now, it was still his. He had conquered Malik for control over his body, and he would not let it be taken from him by an act of impulsiveness.

It was a waiting game, then. The both of them. Ryou waiting and pacing, and Mariku watching and seething. Ryou muttered and plotted under his breath, and Mariku did so in his mind. Because if it was one thing he had learned, he truly was the key to Ryou's demise.

In Ryou's lust for conquest, he had purposefully turned a literal blind eye to Mariku. He did not use the sennen Eye on him. He had left Mariku's mind untouched for the sake of thrill. 'I like things to be fun, like a game. it doesn't take much strategy to cheat and see what you're thinking', he had once told him. And of all of Earth's population, Mariku was the only one who was safe from his ever present gaze. It was he alone that could think without the Eye upon him. And through this, he knew that it would be him alone who would kill him.

Let the games begin.

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**Reviews are very appreciated.**


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